It's not brilliant.
It has nothing to do with love.
Love isn't the same as infatuation.
Love has no relation to sex.
Calling a woman you love "my filthy girl" exposes you as someone who doesn't understand what love is.
This was an empty, shallow, unpleasant, violently misogynistic and deeply unattractive film that offered nothing of worth to the viewer.
For romance it offered sex, for art it offered artifice, for beauty it gave us ugliness.
There is no doubt that the director and writer beleived that they were crafting a wonderfully clever film about love and desire but they weren't...they managed instead to deliver a film that presented a series of poorly drawn, repellent characters who, in the real world, one would want nothing to do with.
"Manchester" (no, really, that's the lead male character) and "Noone" (I promise you I am not making this up) live in a lock-up (I know, I know but this is all true) and spend their days having sex, photographing their sex (shocking stuff eh?) and, in the case of Noone, stuffing birds (she is a taxidermist...it means rearranging skin we are told on at least two occasions) while the outside world carries on doing meaningless things like working, learning, supporting the poor and needy; losers.
"Manchester" very rarely wears a shirt...he's the sort of guy who is really "out there", you know, just, like, living it man. He's got tattoos and everything. He's the guy who thinks that wearing skinny jeans past the age of 24 is acceptable and who believes himself to be "eccentric" because he wears fingerless gloves...almost all of the time. I hated him and hoped that before the end of the film something awful would happen to him...it almost does but Noone saves him, and act which so enraged me I wanted to get up out of my seat and set fire to the screen.
"Noone" is just beautiful and she loves sex. Like, she really loves it. She spends her days having orgasms and recording herself talking about them for Manchesters amusement. She must achieve orgasm more often than any women in the history of cinema. But that's, like, so liberating yeah? The writer and director (both men) are showing how, like, women can enjoy sex too, yeah? What an insight.
Manchesters love is so powerful that he eventually stages an exhibition of his pornographic photographs of Noone without her permission or knowledge. Love, eh, it's a wonderful thing. I know that whenever I think of my girlfriend and how important she is to me, how I would do anything for her, how I want her to be happy, safe and secure with me that I think the only way to show that to her is take some "dirty" pictures of her then stage an exhibition of them without letting her know. Doesn't everyone?
I cannot express clearly enough what a nasty little film this was and how utterly loathsome the two central characters are.
Vile.
If there is any justice in the world this will sink like a stone to be "enjoyed" only by people who still think that showing graphic sex is still, somehow, "shocking" or liberating...it's not, it's just porn and another example of the film industries inability to treat women with anything other than contempt. Everyone involved should be ashamed...not because of the sex but because they made a film without a heart, without a soul and without any purpose.
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