Words by Nick Hilton.
David Cronenberg’s last film in cinemas, A Dangerous Method, was, by all accounts, a bit shit. It’s surprising, therefore, that he’s followed it up so swiftly (less than six months between theatrical releases) with another film that’s, frankly, a little bit shitter. His new film is Cosmopolis an apocalyptic morality tale about a young, handsome billionaire and his daylong journey through rioting New York in search of a haircut. I’m sure it’s some sort of parable or something but the almost incessant, meaningless and repetitive dialogue left me frustrated, bored and desperate for someone to put a bullet through Robert Pattinson’s skull.
Which isn’t to say that Pattinson isn’t very good. He is. He’s uncannily perfect in the role, sort of like Michael Fassbender in Prometheus. It’s just a shame, therefore, that the film emotionally ostracizes the audience from anything going on onscreen. Characters come and go after enduring painfully poorly written conversations with Pattinson and then we’re left and expected to care about the things that have taken place. Perhaps it’s all a savage critique of consumerism but, even if it is, it’s no excuse for how lukewarm and stilted the whole affair is.
There’s also no visual flair, confined as we are, largely, to a limousine interior. It’s as dull and flavorless as the rest of the film and will leave you longing for an exploding head or a cheerleading 69 scene. Pattinson holds the thing together to the extent that it might be mistaken, in crass arthouse circles, for a good movie but try watching this without being bored and you will realize the physical impossibility of the task. It’s one of the most vague and pretentious attempts at serious, existential drama to have come our way in a long time.
Slower than an asthmatic tortoise and packed with hackneyed dialogue and inconsequential cameos, Cosmopolis is a film to avoid.
|Starring:||Robert Pattinson, Paul Giamatti, Samantha Morton, Jay Baruchel, Juliette Binoche|
|Running time:||FEELS LONG|