Violet Lives Upstairs

What could be less cinematic than endless telephone conversations? Especially between an astonishingly dull actress (playing an implausibly dull and 'quirky' character) and an Australian Italian laboring over a sultry Italian accent for the purpose of whispering poetry down said telephone to said dull actress.

This film has all the art house tropes: a lonely, unrequited woman. a mysterious, elusive man. walks along the beach. frustrated artistic ambition (if only the filmmaker had felt so frustrated). On this point, I assume that the production designer thought it would be a subtle touch to make the central characters homemade lampshades look like they had been made in a sheltered workshop.

I was surprised this was a funded film, it seemed more typical film school graduate pap. Mawkish, tedious and pretentious. I was moved to write this review after having read the previous review which ascribes various literary allusions that strike me as absurdly overblown.

The truth is that this film is a barely entertaining confection. Nothing more.