Film Review: Until the End of the World

Avoid this dreadful film. I saw it in San Francisco in February 1992*. I didn’t like it then. I thought it was muddled, pretentious, portentous and at least forty minutes too long (151 minutes? Really?)  UPDATE: HOLY FUCKING SHIT- there is a 280. That is Two Hundred And Eighty. Minute Long director’s cut.  HOLY FUCKING SHIT. I now know what the only movie playing in my own personal hell is…)
To check out my memory and early-20s judgment, I watched it again, with Mrs Towers. Big mistake. She has more ammo now for her don’t-let-hubby-choose-the-films campaign.
Director Wim Wenders has William Hurt, Sam Neill and Solveig Donmartin wander around Lisbon, Paris, Berlin, Moscow and Tokyo, searching for plausible dialogue (in vain),  before they land up in the back of beyond Outback Australia, and hook up with Max von Sydow and Jean Moreau. And it goes on and on. The flabbiest 40 minutes of film making I have subjected myself to in a long time.
With so much talent, you’d hope for better. It just goes on and on and on. It’s a mess. It just goes on and on and on… If I were Peter Carey, co-author of the screenplay, I wouldn’t be boasting about it on my CV. And he isn’t…

Some of the other films I saw in and around San Francisco during that two weeks
Final Analysis
Madame Bovary

Films I should have seen
Mike Leigh ‘s Life is Sweet (or maybe I did? Memory isn’t what it used to be)

* My abiding memory and regret; I was an idiot, an insensitive selfish idiot. The intervening twenty years have made me a much better person, oh yes.


About dwighttowers

Below the surface...
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