Wednesday, October 24, 2007

Eastern Promises (David Cronenberg, 2007)


On the level of campy fun, David Cronenberg's blood-and-entrail-laden foray into murky Russian mafia transactions in London's underworld works perfectly well. Except then you're asked to accept for human-like characters the sadistic brutes who, for commercial purposes, spik to each odder in hevily akcented Inglish and kan even temporarily survive being stabbed through the heart. Not to mention the dead teenage mother, who reads out [again, in Slavic-inflected English] voiceover pages and pages of seemple-Rrrussian-girl dreams and expositori backstory from her diary (all to the accompaniment of the world's whiniest violin). On this level of projected human drama, the whole thing amounts to one dumb joke.
(And is a single one of the actors genuinely Russian?)


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