Thank fuck for Ben Wheatley; the director causing frissons of excitement in an otherwise dull British film industry. Sightseers picks at the scabs of a very particular English psyche and then flicks them at you. It’s not for everyone. Lord knows what the casual Netflix viewer is going to make of this as part of their comedy selection. It finds laughs in the mundane and the murderous and pulls you into that narrow pitch black trench between humour and horror. It’s like an edgier version of Mike Leigh’s Nuts In May with added splatter; uncomfortable but compelling to watch. This is banal Britain and beautiful Britain and brutal Britain where the pagan and the petty coexist. It’s a postcard from the edge of madness. Wish you were here?
No comments:
Post a Comment