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Saltburn 2023
I enjoyed a singular piece of dialogue, when Elordi’s character is pulling into Keoghan’s parents’ driveway and he goes: Is this it? Oh, this is nice, mate. Look, she’s clearly cleaned up her act. This is lovely! Let’s do this!
The film is nonetheless a diabolical act of self-flagellation. It does not aim at truth. It preys on lack. Emerald Fennell is unacquainted with beauty. She does not know what it means to love, or to understand. Her art possesses no reality beyond its moments of conception. It is the marking of a crass, cartoonish and impoverished mode of being.
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Blow-Up 1966
What mischief one could enjoy in the sixties with the simple get-out clause of that looming Bomb above. That’s why Blow-Up works so well, I think. We watch a magnification take place. A method of reconstruction. Overshadowed by the threat of mass destruction. All of this is captured through a magnified lens. One which focuses in on the epitome of the Swinging Sixties. David Bailey and the like. To capture culture in the throes of extinction, its representation must be…
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