I see the word “destroyed” used often to describe reactions to heavy, emotionally devastating movies. I think it’s a bit over the top. Movies do not “destroy” me. They move me for better and for worse. They don’t leave me wracked with soul-crushing anguish. Weird flex, I know, but it’s true.
Except for Babyteeth, which in its final 15 minutes did slug me in my stealth abs* and set my lower lip quivering. This is a great film. It’s a great film for anyone; it’s a great film for dads with daughters, or people generally looking for perspective on facing the inevitable with the most beloved people in their lives. Shannon Murphy makes movies right on my wavelength: Eccentric verging on surreal with subtle build-up of emotional power. I loved it.
You can read my full review at Paste Magazine.
*So called because they’re there, but disguised beneath an impressive layer of flab.
A Constant Visual Feast 