A movie that makes you vaguely uncomfortable with absolutely everything.
In which David Cronenberg’s Maps to the Stars and Sion Sono’s Why Don’t You Play in Hell? compete to see which can get cinema drunk on its own death faster.
The last shot of Short Cuts is of four people in clown makeup, smeared from a night of drinking and hot-tubbing, sucking on lemon slices and laughing. It’s the whole movie summed up in a single image.
I do not particularly wish to review this film, which I have just seen, while growing increasingly intoxicated. On purpose.