(Photo Credit; Vanity Fair)
I went into this fucking movie solely because the 4th on the billing was crack fiend, cult director, maniac, true-blue New Yorkian legend Abel Ferrara, and that insanity being in service of a gritty, wild, exciting, see-sawing free-wheeling adrenaline shot to the soul is simply a bonus.
The movie is a frenetic, frantic good time, bouncing from place to place in a picaresque adventure, where Chalamet is absolutley on the form of his life and the first performance where he is not only having fun and relishing the chance to go nuts, but it truly charismatic as well, a far cry from the introverted "Bones and All" and subtler Paul Atreides. The movie has a ground's eye view of people and places and relationships, and uses its cast wonderfully: as usual A'zion is on a tear (though, for fun, imagine her lines said as Bobby Hill: "My dad says ping pong's a bastard sport." "That's my paddle! I DON'T KNOW YOU!") between this and "Hellraiser", and Gwyneth Paltrow has put down her snake oil and decided to act again, I honestly like her in this.
But I'm here for my man Ferrara, a truly inspired piece of casting, and between the collapsing bathtubs, con-games, hustling (Tyler the Creator is fantastic here) and bullshit spin; Ferrara spikes the madness as an unpredictable, incredibly dangerous maniac with a dog. It's like "John Wick" but on heroin when he's here. I love him.
Watch "The Addiction" and "King of New York".
Anyway the movie's great, it flies by.
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