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A powerful, necessary film, deeply humane and sympathetic, ugly-beautiful in its panic, full of dread and bad behavior. We feel every iota of Jean’s anxiety at closeted life in the homophobic 1980s.
A loving appreciation, but never a blinkered one, of the punk philosopher, a woman ahead of her time and still timely: iconoclastic, creative, ever-searching, a cultural observer who saw deep and far.
A sinister tapestry of urban unease and feminist fury that turns an ordinary domestic setting into a place of skulking terror. Original and deeply creepy.
At the Moët British Independent Film Awards after party, which I had the pleasure of attending last night.
Not that I’m suggesting someone should write some British actor slash fanfic or anything…
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