Great movie but…can’t shake the gross feeling towards the end that it’s like a Bergman made by super smug capitalist white Americans. The film breaks through for a few moments to the rich inner nightmare of the deeply traumatized characters that Portman’s deeply unethical and smug af (and fake af) actress is studying for an Italian director who probably did zero research and just condescends people twisted by trauma because he felt like a basic idiot. But I guess I would’ve just rather have watched a film about Gracie and Joe. Like Elizabeth? In the third act? Fuck off. You served your purpose. And let the story run another 10 minutes into pure Repulsion transcendence.

For the rich rich rich feelings that the film left me with as I did love it, there are so many mental moments where I booed it.

I guess for a film like this, that’d be classified as a resounding and mYsTerIOUs success. Frustrates the viewer cause it’s like Joe’s story, get it? Ya get it??? Commentary on art & role of fiction muahah

I’ll be revisiting moments from this film for Joe’s character and when Gracie breaks, and Gracie’s implied network of lies, that’s when this film hits 11 and that’s why I love/like it. This is Joe’s tragedy. His inner abused child being hidden for 24 years and trying to come out is so brilliant and I want more. I want to see the feeling of pure despairing disassociation being fucking beaten into you real time baby when you’re being emotionally gored by manipulative, condescending narcissists and you retreat in order to survive and you’re just living in survival mode. I want a movie about him. For a story like this, on Gracie’s end, I want to clearly see an expansion of the lines where the lies we tell ourselves crash or feed into the ones we then embrace for gain (Killers of Flower Moon conveyed this so simply and grippingly at its end) and how that self abuse is also related and self feeding. Instead I got some smug narcissistic actress being like lemme understand you for my craft muahah and it’s annoying to watch her insincerity without the world of the story’s directorial involvement and that the film’s finale is dedicated to her when really she existed as a pressure device for a better story to possibly take the reigns.

Just go for the jugular, stop holding back for an artsy portrait or it means you didnt know how to keep going to the heights this can go 🙄

I love Moore’s childish girly masking but again I can’t help but feel it’s a bunch of Hollywood people going oh ho ho trauma! And they had no clear final revelation / catharsis in mind so it just comes out in - fantastically devastating - bits and pieces with a shroud of subtlety slapped on this badboy.

Maybe just for my cup of tea I just wanted a Cassevetes / Bergman approach when this one chose a more uhhh…Sirkian thing except way more subtle without a Sirkian revelation & climactic finale?