you can see when harry gets tantalizing close to making it, he can taste it, he's salivating out of his gloating grin, and then it comes crashing down and the all too familiar desperation covers his body, only momentarily though until he's high on his own supply yet again because a sweet talker always has another thing to say. the cycle goes on and on, over and over again and the thing is, even if harry did make it big,…
there's a lot in here about integrity, explicitly in dialogue and then shown in action. about the different ways injustice and egotism shows up in society. from the innocuous pseudo philosophy of rich kids playing indie alt to the petty crusades of men in uniform to the bombs dropped and weapons sold. all i know is if this was a just world the three hour runtime we afford to the ego projects of hollywood's men would've been offered to this story and the emotional arcs that deserved even more exploration in this medium.
how many more stories written by men about messy white women whose entire identity is determined by their relationships with men must we as a society endure
not even cillian murphy could save this torturously long, ideologically blunt, american exceptionalist, prosaic take on the lone genius.
