Reviews

I'm struggling to push this wheel barrow full of adjectives up a steep hill at the moment, so would you forgive me if I just dump some of them out as I stagger past this film's review section? Let's see, what have I got in here?

Tedious, clichéd, dreary, pointless, clueless, predictable, rambling, pretentious... that's better.

It's LA in the mid 80s and those young (and not so young) beautiful thangs are dropping tabs, sniffing talcum powder laced with cocaine, boozing and grinding their friends, friends' boy/girlfriends, their friends' parents and generally revelling in a life of unrestrained hedonism and vice interspersed with the occasional dip into the mundanity of death, failed relationships and guilt-ridden existential anguish. OK, got that (yawn). And? Oh wait, that's the film. That's it in it's mind numbingly boring entirety.

I sat through 60 mins of what should have been a 10 min recap of the 80s before it slowly dawned on me that there was nothing even vaguely interesting likely to unfold from that point. Oh wait, no, that's not entirely correct; one of the main protagonists had a profoundly deep, mesmerisingly incisive moment of sheer human brilliance which went something along the lines of "what happens when people don't warn us about the bad things in life?"... oh I don't know mate, if you really have to ask that, wear a bell around your neck, go feed on a hillside somewhere and stop your mewling, please.

I fell for this film because the cast reads like a Hall of Fame list but even the likes of Thornton, Basinger, Ryder and Rourke struggled (bravely but unsuccessfully) to make the meagre amount of silk they'd been given stretch over the huge, rancid pigs ear they had dumped on them. This is horrible, craftless film making.