Nocturnal Animals

A lavishly filmed romp that justifies its own existence in one of its opening scenes, when a character (who otherwise has no role in the story and never appears again) explains to Susan that in absurd times there is nothing to do but enjoy the absurdity, because that's all life has to offer. And by that time, Ford had explained himself to me and could do whatever he wanted. And he did. The dark intrusion of lost, sincere love into the nihilistic burnt-out decadence of the upper class (however it may be parodied here) is a tricky subject that reeks of moralizing didacticism. And yet Ford manages to avoid it brilliantly and instead handles the whole subject intimately and personally, without compromising his visual magnificence. The whole composition then skillfully coalesces in a devastating finale. In short, a beautiful example of how the magic of the film medium can dust off even a somewhat threadbare script, relying on coincidences and trusting that someone would be willing to publish such an unremarkable book. Oh, and I was also moved by the opening credits, and that counts for something. (26/03/2017)

"Enjoy the absurdity of our world. It's a lot less painful. Believe me, our world is a lot less painful than the real world." This is what Refn tried to do in The Neon Demon and failed. Nocturnal Animals is a powerful story of betrayal and revenge that avoids arousing straightforward emotions in the viewer, yet remains engaging and overwhelming. It is a contrast of the perfect contours of the safe but cool environment of Los Angeles high-society with the whimsicality of the dusty Texas desert full of helplessness. A collision of the emptiness of the consumer world with the most essential values in life. Regretting making the wrong decisions in the past. Will the movie ever show us the character that the story is actually about and we feel so sorry for? That’s the painful question that keeps haunting the viewer until the final scene. American academic art, made livelier by the most pleasurable acting performances. And a soundtrack in the style of Bernard Herrmann. (29/11/2016)

A typical example of reckless form triumphing over content. Alas, Nocturnal Animals is truly a beautiful treat for the eyes, and I appreciate all the details of the novel's interweaving in the main story and the triple color scheme, but nothing more. It seems to me somewhat insufficient that such a work, which is spoken of in superlatives, should only deal with such an ordinary moment in life as coping with a breakup. Interpersonal relationships have beginnings and endings, it's as simple as that. But is life really so uninspiring that it offers not a drop more? I am at least thankful for the strong ensemble cast that makes the templates work at least a little bit. Amy is aesthetic and beautifully melancholic, Jake is earthy and Michael is a classic tough guy again. I'll skip the book "Tony and Susan" (1993). (05/11/2018)

If the opening assault on the eyes (especially male eyes) was supposed to capture the female protagonist’s lack of taste and judgment (because we find ourselves in her gallery), it would be possible to understand her subsequent enthusiasm for Edward’s trashy novel built on the most moronic plot twists and populated with caricatures of Southern rednecks, hysterical husbands and indomitable sheriffs. If, however, the film really required us to keep a critical (and cynical) distance from a protagonist who is so unprepared for the real world that she can’t even unwrap a package that she receives (after cutting herself, she leaves the job to an assistant), the melodramatic conclusion, which instead relies on our identification with Susan, would not make any sense. I’m not sure how seriously Ford wants us to take Nocturnal Animals. In any case, it can’t be taken too seriously. The characters are one-dimensional. Instead of impactful statements, we have trite phrases, which the characters use to reveal their emotional state to us (instead of acting it out). In Susan’s world, everyone and everything primarily has to look good, which sometimes applies and sometimes doesn’t in the world of the book Susan is reading. It is thus probably not true (or at least not all the time) that she projects into the novel what she wants to have in it as its plot materialises before our eyes. Or perhaps the fetishes of women from better society include Aaron Taylor-Johnson ostentatiously wiping his ass? I suspect the director himself did not have a clear idea of how (self-)ironic and deliberately campy he wanted the film to be, nor how much he wanted the romantic and spiritual to take precedence over material values. The result is a trio of films – a Southern thriller, a melodrama about class differences and a satire of the world of snobs who judge others based on whether they own the latest iPhone – that are all quite entertaining in places, but most of the time come across as much more serious and self-important than would be fitting, considering their hollowness. 65% (23/11/2016)

Bulls-eye. I seemed like I was watching something that I had written. Ford does some fantastic work with narrative levels. The message (even that of the sub-story) isn’t revolutionary in any way, but the journey toward it is thought out down to the smallest detail. The same as the contrast between good and evil, between the decadent and the ordinary inside you conceals an unusual magic reality. Both Gyllenhaal and Adams are excellent. Fantastic music. Plus stylish opening credits with the current face of America. (26/11/2016)