Saltburn
If one were looking for a definition of tastelessness in cinematic form then I would suggest this effort as a worthy candidate. One should note that it's not particularly worthy in many other respects, with the notable exception of its cinematography and set design; these happen to be the only areas where any true care appears to have been given. For example, there are some arresting uses of shadow, and a variety of visually stimulating locations but there endeth the praise, almost...
I also wish to make some positive remarks regarding the performance of Rosamund Pike, who, to my mind, is an extraordinary actress who hasn't received the filmic exposure that her talents merit. Her icy charisma and ability to appear authentic in pretty much any role she undertakes makes her scenes one of the very few pleasures this movie bestows.
Now onto the problems. Firstly, there are the characters. The fact that none of them, except possibly Pike's, appears credible is not actually the film's biggest issue; what is much more dissatisfying is that none of the relationships in the film are even marginally convincing. There is not an iota of chemistry between any of the film's characters and that especially applies to the relationship which occupies the film's central focus, that between Oliver (Barry Keoghan) and Felix (Jacob Elordi). Now it's easy for one to excuse this by referring to how emotionally dysfunctional Oliver and Felix (as well as the entirety of Felix's family) appear to be, but that would be to miss the point. There isn't even any superficial connection or slight moment of feeling that is generated between Oliver and Felix which would make you believe that they would bother to utter a morning greeting to each other, never mind about the idea that one would invite the other to his family home. The issue here is not with the acting but with the pacing, the writing and, most significantly, the film's incessantly odious tone.
The general misanthropy and nastiness that pervades each scene does not provide any space for the actors to begin to cultivate any sense of fine feeling, or feeling of any kind in fact, for each other. Oliver talks about loving and being in love at the beginning of the film but all we are truly presented with is an emotionally barren wasteland of unconvincing characters being placed in unconvincing scenarios doing and saying unconvincingly horrid things to one another. There is no emotional texture to draw on, there's no empathy, no joy, no connection, and, thus, there are no stakes. It is simply impossible to care what becomes of any of the characters because the film never allowed any of the characters to become anything in the first place.
Some of this would've been redeemed if the film was at least humorous. However, I'm afraid that, despite a number of obvious and jarring attempts, humour was never experienced for this viewer. The film was in fact painfully humourless. After all, it's hard to laugh at scenarios which are neither persuasive nor engaging.
A word should be spoken on the casting of Barry Keoghan as the film's protagonist. Yes, he was probably miscast. His Liverpudlian accent is inconsistent and while he does creepy and arresting extremely well in other films, he possesses none of the oily charm or comfortingly sympathetic demeanour his character requires. Matt Damon does a much better job in a film with similar themes: The Talented Mr Ripley. He demonstrates a boyish innocence and exuberance alongside an unnatural cunning which makes him endearing and credible and thus draws him into a world to which someone of his station would normally be barred entry. Keoghan's Oliver, on the other hand, one would not wish to touch with a barge pole, and, if one did, one would run away from him as soon as one had found oneself doing so. However, the casting of Keoghan only serves to speak to larger faults with the film. He was unsuitable, it's true, but so was the entire movie.
So, what seemed as if it might have been a worthwhile, visceral investigation of the way class and privilege operate in 21st century Britain ends up being an ugly, uninteresting, vicious mess. Its plot begins as muddy and ends as being ridiculous to the point of insult, so insulting, in fact, that I shan't bother to offer any further comment on it. Its sense of place is much weaker than it ought to be, bearing in mind that the film's title is eponymous with it, and its sense of time is utterly arbitrary (was it set around 2006 just so the director got to include her favourite tunes? I can't think of any other reason). Thus, the overall effect of the film is to inspire very little outside of boredom and jaded disgust.
4/10 (3 points for Rosamund and 1 for the pretty colours and sets)
If one were looking for a definition of tastelessness in cinematic form then I would suggest this effort as a worthy candidate. One should note that it's not particularly worthy in many other respects, with the notable exception of its cinematography and set design; these happen to be the only areas where any true care appears to have been given. For example, there are some arresting uses of shadow, and a variety of visually stimulating locations but there endeth the praise, almost...
I also wish to make some positive remarks regarding the performance of Rosamund Pike, who, to my mind, is an extraordinary actress who hasn't received the filmic exposure that her talents merit. Her icy charisma and ability to appear authentic in pretty much any role she undertakes makes her scenes one of the very few pleasures this movie bestows.
Now onto the problems. Firstly, there are the characters. The fact that none of them, except possibly Pike's, appears credible is not actually the film's biggest issue; what is much more dissatisfying is that none of the relationships in the film are even marginally convincing. There is not an iota of chemistry between any of the film's characters and that especially applies to the relationship which occupies the film's central focus, that between Oliver (Barry Keoghan) and Felix (Jacob Elordi). Now it's easy for one to excuse this by referring to how emotionally dysfunctional Oliver and Felix (as well as the entirety of Felix's family) appear to be, but that would be to miss the point. There isn't even any superficial connection or slight moment of feeling that is generated between Oliver and Felix which would make you believe that they would bother to utter a morning greeting to each other, never mind about the idea that one would invite the other to his family home. The issue here is not with the acting but with the pacing, the writing and, most significantly, the film's incessantly odious tone.
The general misanthropy and nastiness that pervades each scene does not provide any space for the actors to begin to cultivate any sense of fine feeling, or feeling of any kind in fact, for each other. Oliver talks about loving and being in love at the beginning of the film but all we are truly presented with is an emotionally barren wasteland of unconvincing characters being placed in unconvincing scenarios doing and saying unconvincingly horrid things to one another. There is no emotional texture to draw on, there's no empathy, no joy, no connection, and, thus, there are no stakes. It is simply impossible to care what becomes of any of the characters because the film never allowed any of the characters to become anything in the first place.
Some of this would've been redeemed if the film was at least humorous. However, I'm afraid that, despite a number of obvious and jarring attempts, humour was never experienced for this viewer. The film was in fact painfully humourless. After all, it's hard to laugh at scenarios which are neither persuasive nor engaging.
A word should be spoken on the casting of Barry Keoghan as the film's protagonist. Yes, he was probably miscast. His Liverpudlian accent is inconsistent and while he does creepy and arresting extremely well in other films, he possesses none of the oily charm or comfortingly sympathetic demeanour his character requires. Matt Damon does a much better job in a film with similar themes: The Talented Mr Ripley. He demonstrates a boyish innocence and exuberance alongside an unnatural cunning which makes him endearing and credible and thus draws him into a world to which someone of his station would normally be barred entry. Keoghan's Oliver, on the other hand, one would not wish to touch with a barge pole, and, if one did, one would run away from him as soon as one had found oneself doing so. However, the casting of Keoghan only serves to speak to larger faults with the film. He was unsuitable, it's true, but so was the entire movie.
So, what seemed as if it might have been a worthwhile, visceral investigation of the way class and privilege operate in 21st century Britain ends up being an ugly, uninteresting, vicious mess. Its plot begins as muddy and ends as being ridiculous to the point of insult, so insulting, in fact, that I shan't bother to offer any further comment on it. Its sense of place is much weaker than it ought to be, bearing in mind that the film's title is eponymous with it, and its sense of time is utterly arbitrary (was it set around 2006 just so the director got to include her favourite tunes? I can't think of any other reason). Thus, the overall effect of the film is to inspire very little outside of boredom and jaded disgust.
4/10 (3 points for Rosamund and 1 for the pretty colours and sets)