yo, homie. that my briefcase?
It’s just fine. Without Spaeny’s performance, this would be an intolerable bore, but, with it, it’s still a drag. It’s pretty phenomenal that a movie with such a simple premise, that is based on a real memoir, that has one real (eponymous!) subject, manages to feel so confused — the editing is so jarring, with the excessive fades and strange sequencing feeling shockingly amateur, and there are random lingering shots of Elvis that I can’t seem to parse in relation to the rest of the film. I’m also terribly humoured by anybody attempting to compare Elordi’s performance to Butler’s. I mean, come on.
Genuinely shocked at the overwhelmingly positive reception this has garnered.
This has some of the worst writing I've seen in a minute — I know I'm about four years removed from high school, but the dialogue these characters are given is consistently eye-roll-worthy and unrealistic. There is no emotional resonance whatsoever, which is particularly criminal considering what this film is about. The pacing is off and the plot is messy not in a mirroring-the-content type of way but in a…
The narrative structure is a bit dubious and it’s potentially overlong, but it really doesn’t even matter. This is simply phantasmic — swelling, soaring, strident, stunning homage. I can see how this is abrasive to many, but I think its lack of lacquer works so immensely. I also don’t think calling this a love letter to cinema is wholly accurate; it’s an observance of film. And how seriously Babylon takes this medium — how clearly it loves it — and the film’s…