Buffalo '66

What do people see in this movie? Sure, I’ll give the actual, technical side of the filmmaking to be unique and bold. And I have yet to see Christina Ricci put in a bad performance. She alone is worth a star here. But everything else? No. This is not some artistic triumph. This is not some thoughtful rumination on growing up and accepting responsibility. This is not the masterwork of some brilliant artist. This is a labored, pretentious, “check out my 90’s indie cred” piece of wannabe Serious Filmmaking by a self-appointed auteur who mistakes style for substance. Weird camera angles and a lack of score do not a bold movie make if they amount to doing weird stuff for the sake of it. This is a movie by a naval-gazing, misogynistic, abrasive jerk, about a naval-gazing, misogynistic, abrasive jerk. Ricci’s Layla is a human sex doll; she wears a nightie to a dance class, she takes endless abuse from and falls in love with Gallo’s Billy for no discernible reason, refuses to leave when he gives her her freedom, and spends the last 30 minutes finding any way she can to throw herself at him. There is some serious narcissistic wish fulfillment here, but also a disgusting view of women. No surprise from the director of Brown Bunny. And this is a movie that forces you to spend almost two hours watching a mentally abusive jerk kidnap a woman, berate her, hurt her, abuse his only friend (who has a learning disorder, which he makes fun of), and plan to murder an ex-athlete because of a lost bet and a conspiracy theory. He is obnoxious, bitter, and abrasive, and he is somehow the protagonist. His last minute redemption is completely unearned and undeserved. If it weren’t for Ricci, this movie would be utterly worthless. Even with her, it’s ridiculous, unpleasant, pretentious, and nonsensical. It’s a collection of the worst cliches of 90’s indie filmmaking. It’s a fantastic do-not-do list for aspiring directors and writers. But it is not a good movie.