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Fox Searchlight
Fox Searchlight
Was expecting a tense psychological character-study but got
reportage instead. You can’t replace the former with swoopy camera-angles and
slidey violins. And you can’t empathise with a person about whom by the closing
credits you know nothing. Portman’s emaciated face jars with the moon-like
visage of her subject. One wonders if starvation has stilted her performance.
Overlong, overdrawn and teeth-grindingly repetitious; why do modern directors
weaken a story by eking it out for as long as possible! I’ve often considered
the genius of Hitchcock is that he knows how to let the audience do the work.
The greatest image here is the infamously bloodied dress, slowly revealed, a
carefully constructed picture destroyed by its literal explanation. But even
watching this, I couldn’t escape the knowledge of the ever more terrible events
that have happened since and that continue to happen today. Constantly reminded
of Jackie’s creed and detachment, and little else, this film doesn’t allow it.
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