Entertainment

Roy anderson characters if they revealed them selves in a clearer way, arther fleck/joker if he was a real person these are what you'll get from Entertainment in addition to the melancholic and depressing sceneries. But best of it is the intense, surreal and haunting soundtrack. But as I think it's one of those movies that you'll either love it or hate it no grey area here.

What's annoying about this kind of movie is that if you don't like it, it's assumed you just have no tolerance for dark and depraved realism or difficult films. I've liked many movies resembling this on the surface. I even wrote and shot one of my own before deciding this sub-genre was played out by European films in the 90s and Sophia Coppola ever since. This one is just a total misfire in tone. I'm a huge fan of a lot of the elements individually. I love the 'straight' character Turkington, his on stage character Hamburger, beautiful realist cinematography, and occasionally esoteric, stylized dialogue. They make zero sense when put together in this film.

I'd love to see a film about how it would really be for a character like Tarkington to interact with the world, or somewhat less so a character like Hamburger. But not this stylized dialogue where everyone is a silent foil in a world that looks and feels real but has no relationship to the reality we all inhabit. Just so confused by about 90% of the choices.

There is no end to the main characters misery in "Entertainment". It is uncertain to me whether the writers and filmmakers are aiming for a portrait of a beaten dog worth some compassion or a predator feeding on himself and everyone around him, as every well meaning word and action in his direction is ironically swallowed whole followed by a quenched belch. I'm having a hard time finding any love for him at all but am forced to see the story through. In the spirit of Brecht, this comedian have the choice to quit, face reality and stop being the hero that saves the day. But of course, it wouldn't be brechtian for him to do so. That choice is up to me and you. How low can you go and keep on not laughing? And when that laugh comes, is it the cleansing sound of a soul, or the croaking of crows on a corpse? This is tricky: the rating depends upon how aware the producers of "Entertainment" are of it's message. I don't know them personally so I can't be the judge of that, but I hope they give a F*** about the moral of the choice. Otherwise, this movie is just one more self loathing, self pitying, sexist and childishly narcissistic wet nightmare from a masochistic comedian of the male sex, caught in his own cynical material; artsy in the bad sense. But even so, this movie is a perfect kick-off for an interesting discussion.

An exploration through the dark side of entertainment. A feverish introspective nightmare of a character who remains more mysterious by the end of the film than at the beginning. Entertainment drags us along on a slow road trip through the desert with a comedian who loses his self along the way. The line between reality and dreams become completely blurred. The whole film seems like an inside joke the filmmakers refuse to let us in on. Sure, there are funny moments, especially during the first half, but by the end you'll be left with more questions than answers.

It's emotionally heavy, bizarre, heart-breaking, surreal and even somewhat disturbing. What is truly masterful is how, without ever fully understanding who this character is, the film causes us to lose our sense of reality with him. He is explored, with great depth, inwardly without us ever sure of who he is on the outside. Rick Alverson has perfectly re-created the dream logic story telling techniques and beautifully strange cinematography of a David Lynch film. Yet, he does this using his own voice, which is strikingly original. Entertainment is somewhere between a broken character study, an absurdist comedy and modern tragedy.

Entertainment is not for everyone and if you try using your brain while watching it, you may give yourself a migraine. If you try to use your heart to feel your way through, you won't be sure where to put it and may feel depressed afterwards. This film is a trip that you have to allow to wash over you. Let yourself get lost in it's wonderful visuals and be sure to have friends to discuss it with afterwards.

The Comedian sprays his unwieldy hair like a pacifist disciplines their dog. Brushstrokes of hair pulse across his forehead concealing a barren head. He is a performer and a disgrace. Vulgarity and apathy are The Comedian's punch lies, and they land like a dirty southpaw. Some entertainers wish to gather admirers. The Comedian, however, knows that folks remember their enemies most vividly.

Economy motels and gas station bathrooms provide refuge from drunken halls and Mexican diners. One stop fails to secure The Comedian a hotel room, and houses him at a relative's casa. Lying on an abbreviated couch and crotchet pillow, he is tempted by lustful dreams. He has no gall to grasp them, and is reduced to a pathetic puddle.

At every stop, The Comedian reminds the audience that he stands before them as an escape. He is a salesman of forgetting. People ought to sit down and laugh, laying their real life worries on the bar counter. The Comedian hurls blazing rebukes at anyone who dares to remind the room that his character is fabricated. And he character is indeed fabricated poorly.

Eddie opens the show each night, once an admirer of The Comedian, but his face broadcasts news of a dying star. Pantomiming is the character Eddie hops into, and the contrast to The Comedian's three drinks and one microphone routine is staggering. A kid delighting common people with a clown nose and a bell hat. Cheap laughs pour out for the phenom, but they do not sand the psyches of the audience.

It would be easy to call The Comedian's work higher art, but fishing for sympathy is just as cheap as the mime's prop work. No, entertainment is an alchemy of exorcism. The Comedian meets a connoisseur of the chromatic scale, a witch of color. He dives into her art for in hopes of self-reflection. Possibly to understand why he only hears his daughter's voicemail.

The Comedian's set lists are packed with tumors. His mission is to milk laughter from an festering breast, to walk into the grime and smile. This journey will take him exactly where he envisions on the bulky televisions, yet he will not be able to stomach his destination. He will deliver a child, but will never be able communicate with the stranger.