The sparse, cold satisfaction that could be wrung from Trainspotting’s punk insolence has been replaced by an exhausted cynicism. Which is exactly right.
Oh, it’s more of the same old crap we’re feeding our kids these days: Gratuitious destruction of the English language. Partial ursine nudity. Hunny abuse.
American cinema took a sudden, gritty turn with director Billy Wilder’s terrifying The Lost Weekend. Whereas earlier films kept some distance from their subjects, Weekend zooms in and puts one man’s obsession under a microscope.
Nasty, funny, and scary enough to keep me away from any kind of drugs up to and including aspirin…