This is the first film I’ve awarded zero stars since I started this blog. It seemed to do everything wrong. The only good things about it were the music performances to a degree but the fact that the performances were there still annoyed me, particularly the choice of bands, all of whom seemed to be ‘hip’ bands of the era.
All it seems to consist of are footage of rock concerts, explicit sex scenes showing warts and all and seemingly unrelated documentary footage of Antarctica. Let’s talk about the sex, which made this film notorious. I was expecting to get some pleasure from the film’s sex scenes but not even that. My mind even wandered while they were happening, which is not a good sign. Winterbottom seemed to believe that by sticking repetitive piano over clumsily shot sex scenes, they could be rendered romantic. They just bored me, even repulsed me. If the film was trying to show sex as natural as possible, fine. But don’t think that just by showing shots of penises you can break boundaries.
The film tried to show a relationship, but the dialogue and acting just felt unnatural and you were left with no emotional impact. This film could have worked, maybe, with more emotion and character development. As it is, it’s a case of style over substance, except there wasn’t any style! Winterbottom was trying to do too much with too little. It’s unsatisfying, unimaginative and thank God it was only an hour long.