When you look closely at Hieronymus Bosch's works, you'll see a slew of tiny, tucked-away micro-portraits. Religious allusions, eroticized violence, and references to heaven and hell are only some of the elements that made Bosch's art such a bizarre tapestry of sin and transcendence.
Why, you might wonder, am I referring to a 16th-century Dutch artist in the context of a film review? The explanation is simple: 'Nobody Loves You and You Don't Deserve to Exist' is a complicated code of enigmatic imagery that illuminates a link between conservative Britain and the late-medieval currents of heaven and hell.
This bold assertion is reinforced from the outset by a horrific, yet elegantly delicate medieval composition that walks us as the spectator through each micro-portrait of Bosch's "The Garden of Earthly Delights." The storyline of this film is found in the geography of medieval music. Given the prevalence of travel, pilgrimage, exile, peregrinations, and the like throughout this time, "Jack," the working-class jester disturbed by the mind of a tortured saint, is no exception. In a similar vein to Barry Unsworth or Emilio de' Cavalieri's works, the reader is immersed in the life of an outsider, in this case a whole gallery of classic medieval archetypes and relative outsiders in their own right, as they are only revealed to the audience in theatre-like extensive monologues delivered to them directly in a genius blend of performance and interview, I found myself constantly asking who is the interviewer? But, that question is not something that requires a definitive answer.
Information is pieced together through the murmurs of women, most of whom appear to have little moral culpability for Jack, except for the closing speech, which connects with the remorse we feel after the fact, when it's too late to alter anything. This is further kept together by a god-like narrator recounting to us Jack's wonders and woes, along with fantastic gothic imagery scattered with brutalist and increasingly modernist architecture, which appears to move away from purity as the tale proceeds.
To expand on this final point, I take away from this film the harmful and immoral stupidity that has steadily engulfed the now-isolated former United Kingdom. Brett Gregory, the director/writer, also thoughtfully and efficiently adapts each chaotic pane of Bosch's painting into its own narrative act, a challenging feat to do but one that rarely failed to astound me.
In short summary, excellent writing and a fresh plot, with some wonderful characters and a vivid direction, respectfully paying due to the world of art and literature alike.
