Rarely do you see a film fumble an aesthetic bag harder than Dying does in its final quarter when a piano rendition of Jesus, Etc. starts playing over a Christmas montage of what everyone is up to. I can't overstate how dumbfounded that damn needle drop left me after over two hours of such effortless visual storytelling and masterful building of tension.
I didn't quite recover.
solid film, horrible poster
it means nothing..
the more i look at it the worse it looks
when i was eleven years old, my mum would take me to a dvd shop every other weekend or so. i would waddle down aisles upon aisles and slowly pick out films i liked the look of. I'm not sure what my mum would be up to meanwhile. but she would never rush me. and I took my time. finally i would return…
