 |
| Source: Wikipedia |
The title refers to two young children, a girl and boy who seem to stay the same age through several time-skips. They hardly appear for the first hour, then for the other two they mope around and mouth off. Meanwhile, their relatives (who don’t have movies named after them) quarrel and philander and flatulate to amuse the aforementioned youngsters.
Despite ties with the local theater, the family lives in luxury. Then tragedy strikes, and our morose ragamuffins go from riches to rags, from a lavish mansion to an ascetic hellhole.
Did I mention the ghosts? There are ghosts. With no explanation, except a firm, unspoken “Deal with it.” Sure, an art-house masterpiece can explore the transforming influence of fantasy over reality through the dynamic metaphors of film and stage and childhood. That's cool and all.
But I can only process so much metafictional commentary before I wake up and realize I’m a dumb schmuck at a keyboard plonking out words about foreign films too blindingly brilliant for me to appreciate.
Reality bites. Fantasy enhances reality. Why else would we watch movies and junk.
The ending, though satisfying, felt long overdue. It marks the culmination of a long, strange, difficult journey, like finding a North Korean flag on Pluto.
It could be worse; the original cut was five hours. So if you enjoy odd rambling domestic epics in which good children suffer and learn unclear lessons, good for you.
Also, I’m not inviting you over for Christmas dinner.
188 minutes.
No comments:
Post a Comment