Pasolini is the kind of film that gives arthouse cinema a bad name.
Focusing on the last day in the life of the enigmatic auteur and directed by Bad Lieutenant’s Abel Ferrara, it
mistakes pretentiousness for ambition and incoherence for intellect. Willem Dafoe
is undeniably magnetic as the Italian filmmaker, but it would’ve been nice to
drop some of the romping and instead dedicate a bit more time to
exploring his character. You could argue it’s a case of two artistic visions
jostling for supremacy – but if the film needs to disappear up someone’s ass,
it might as well be Pasolini’s, rather than Ferrara’s.
1/5
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