Failed art film? Or late night schlock?
I find this film to be a strange Frankenstein hybrid of both. There are points when the religious imagery clearly points toward some kind of symbolic art house cliché; but often I felt more like I was watching some sleazy, NC-17 version of one of those awful movies that used to play on USA Up All Night. I kept expecting to see imagery of steam billowing from sewer grates as saxophone riffs echoed into the night. Or Shannon Tweed.
Yet according to Netflix, this was the single highest recommended film for me that I had not yet seen. They expected me to give it 4.3 stars when in fact I gave it two. Weird that apparently other people who share my tastes in general like this so much and don't see right through it.
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See a list of my favourite films here: http://www.flickchart.com/slackerinc