I'm sorry, but this was the most self-absorbed, void of emotion movie I've every seen. Monologues were WAY too long and had NOTHING to do with the supposed subject and story of the movie. It felt like it was drama written for drama's sake by a Yale lit major. The idea was worthwhile (but didn't deliver any message), and some of the editing was very good and interesting, but it was so jumbled in it's presentation, that I have no idea what I'm supposed to extract from this.
I couldn't wait for it to end and shuffled through the gentlemen going on and on about his father's job and through Krasinski's over-detailed description of the hippie girl's rape. It all felt like psychiatric deflection to me. And our protagonist said NOTHING. This movie wasn't about anyone or anything. I've not read any of the author's books, but somehow I can't believe the book had so little to say.
I couldn't wait for it to end and shuffled through the gentlemen going on and on about his father's job and through Krasinski's over-detailed description of the hippie girl's rape. It all felt like psychiatric deflection to me. And our protagonist said NOTHING. This movie wasn't about anyone or anything. I've not read any of the author's books, but somehow I can't believe the book had so little to say.