Christmas turkey, anyone? This meandering, self-indulgent waste of time had me fooled to start with. Francis Ford Coppola and Tim Roth are blue-chip names, so I sat back and enjoyed the cinematography confident that my growing doubts would be dispelled as the film unfolded.
Unfolded? Unravelled, meandered and disappeared up its own …. This is one self-indulgent confused mess of a movie. The dubbed dialogue from Bruno Ganz and others is distractingly stilted, and occasionally crass: “What kind of birds do they have in Malta?” “That’s a Maltese Falcon!”
Roth does his best, and it looks really good on the screen, (Alexandra Maria Lara and Alexandra Pirici are also delicious) but the film has no other redeeming features. I left before the end, so I don’t know if the final reel made sense of the preceeding 90 minutes. Even if it did, that wouldn’t compensate for all the ham-fisted pretentious rubbish this disaster serves up.
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