as you probably have heard, this is a movie that consists of three portraits. three very contrived, hard-to-watch portraits.
this movie charges out of the gate with incredible potential, including a great cast, an effective score, and nearly disorienting (yet, rather successful) camera work. additionally, at the start of the first portrait, the narrative freezes, and the narrator urges the viewer to, "wait!" so he can explain something about what's going on. this device is wonderful, and immediately gives the viewer a healthy shot of intrigue. additionally, at this point, you'll probably be really excited at the unorthodox pacing that the film seems to be setting up.
that's all in the first few minutes. and this movie literally screamed in a nosedive downward from there.
while "personal velocity" bucks conventions in many ways, it bucks the concept of storytelling so much that it is simply contrived. want to see development, plot, resolution? not here. this movie tries HARD to dodge all these things, and relentlessly starves the viewer of any of these elements with its spare dialogue.
but in the absence of these elements, what's left is - quite frankly - repetition. the characters simply keep doing what they did in the first moments of their portrait (or at least what the filmmakers set them up to do). and while they rather gratingly repeat their actions, there is no true character development.
to combat this (and surely the problem of converting short stories to film), the movie employs a narrator. this (and the repetition) is the downfall. first of all, who is the narrator? well, it's a male, which is strange since this is mainly a story about three women. ok, but why is he male? and why is he speaking so conversationally at some points? and why does he know of all these women? none of these questions are answered, and the viewer is forced to contend with this narrator who speaks incessantly throughout the entire film.
now this narrator suffers from an additional problem, which plagues the film: heavy-handedness. the narrator says things like, "she could feel the emotion like a vortex pulling her soul inward." that's actually not a direct quote, but it's very close. i am not exaggerating. at one point a character says, "you look you're waiting for something." and the narrator breaks in, "she was, she always has been." this movie can't afford such lead-weighted narration. and it certainly does not fall in line with the narrator's other parts where he's talking about how great kyra sedgewick's ass looks in jeans.
in the end, you've got however many minutes (i don't know 90ish?) of superb acting and inventive cinematography. but anchoring it down without an inch of slack to go anywhere is an overbearing narrator, and three equally overbearing and repetitious movements of what could have probably been a compelling film.
