I forgot I watched this a few minutes after I saw it. Wes Anderson is painting by numbers at this point. A snooze fest filled with dolly shots and immaculately color coordinated sets.
I forgot I watched this a few minutes after I saw it. Wes Anderson is painting by numbers at this point. A snooze fest filled with dolly shots and immaculately color coordinated sets.
The omniscient narration during the first half of this film is so lazy and really took me out of the film. First quarter of the film is a mess. Fanning was good but couldn't really keep up with Skarsgård, Reinsve (Nora), and the Lilleaas (Agnes). Lilleaas was amazing and outshines everyone. This film is an acting dream overall. But the flashbacks never really work. And this story has been told before. Nothing is added. The "i got you, it was…
fucking awful. this film does exactly what it states it's satirizing. it's sad
horrifying. The refusal to allow any one movement or idea portrayed in the film to be the reason for Carol's sickness is what makes the film so terrifying. It's not New Age, it's not forever chemicals, it's not her husband. It's simply her inexplicable inability and flailing desire to understand why her existence is so unbearably crushing and the world around her so utterly indifferent and absolutely uncontrollable. Every viewer knows that with every retreat deeper into herself Carol walks deeper and deeper into confusion and emptiness.