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The Comfort of Strangers 1990
HOLY OEDIPUS! HOLY HEDONISM!
i wasn’t sure what to make of this one after watching it, but it’s really grown on me in retrospect. i’m definitely interested in reading the original book (and not surprised it came from mcewan, that little freak).
and i kinda loved christopher walken’s monologue in a sick and twisted way.
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Phantom Thread 2017
textured and utterly beautiful. i read it as a metaphor, albeit a slightly perverse one, for the creative process as a state of constant renewal—the give and take, death and rebirth. we’ve all heard it: great art requires at least some form of suffering (induced or not), so an artist must be a lunatic in equal measure, no? is creativity nothing more than thinly veiled masochism?
the way PTA contextualizes the artist-muse relationship…? genius! who is ultimately responsible for creation, subject…
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