|
Edmond. Sorta disjointed spiral of a flick that i knew would be disappointing, and in the final scene, when i could not wait to be fully frustrated by the inchoate philosophic message that this flick was insufficiently trying to expound upon, i not only found one meaning to this flick to suddenly emerge as perfectly ostensible, almost obtrusive, but i also found that the holes in the pock-marked philosophizing were absolutely brilliant as well. Ashe.
d
__________________
Fate is my mistress, mother of the cruel abomination that is hope.
|