Look, the night is coming to us, the day is ending,
Every shadow goes to sleep after the day.
There is little strength left in the victims.
Sell the demons your amulet - Faith.
Peter Stepan
There is never much light on the streets of this city. Night covers a dark veil at home and people only the sun begins to lean towards sunset. It is always cold here, even summer brings cold thoughts. There's no escape from the darkness. It goes into your head and all thoughts are black. Good mood can only be seen in old comedies, which are shown on dusty TV at three in the morning. Street lights look at her with cold, indifferent eyes. They're just outside observers. Every night they pass by men and women who have lost all hope, wrapping themselves in cloaks. Night is infinite and all-powerful. There are no showers. One body. Nobody cares about anyone else's troubles here. It's always raining and dark. The light is afraid to look into the alleys.
Slowly poking his heels through the cobbled streets. The sound drowned in darkness, which enveloped her with a dark web of disturbing dreams. The stranger stood on the last steps below. She came up to him and squeaked a lighter.
From this picture initially loomed excellent noir. Even despite the incompetent scene of the attack on the main character. The soundtrack originally corresponded to the atmosphere. A minute. They were stolen by night. Everything looked very cold and detached. But as the plot progressed, it became boring and duller. In the end, pornographic noir slid into banal striptease and the subsequent sex scene, which is simply not interesting to watch. How did it all start?
It’s great that Privat tried to get out of a situation where making a film is not limited to the topic, but let’s shoot sex here and here, because, they say, such an entourage. This is so flat that in the column “director” should be a dash, because there is nothing easier than to take a certain place and shoot a set of positions in it. Kramer tried to go the other way, giving the viewer the opportunity to plunge with the heroine in the painful search for herself. The director tried to recreate the atmosphere of the noir films of the 50s. Darkness he actively seasoned hopelessness and detachment of the narrative. Unfortunately, somewhere in the middle of the narrative thread was lost and initially an interesting idea turned into banal porn, which simply spoiled the picture.
And it is, despite the external emasculated world, the story that was shown (and not told behind the scenes) was the strongest ridge that could raise the picture to the level of world porn aesthetics. And it was just another one.
On the other hand, blaming a person who filmes sex as a measure of their talent is probably wrong. But I really want to see the artist’s canvas behind the veil of frictions. A self-taught artist, apparently. Unfortunately, the canvas of creativity in such paintings is removed into the pantry and the banal sketching of naked bodies, woven in an imaginary act of proximity of the physical and mental abyss between them, begins.
So the picture ends with a complete banalism, which as best as possible brings out the very essence of the dark alley. The beginning of the story is a blow to the head of the viewer. A blow that involves a haze of hope for something interesting. And when you start to move away from dizziness, you find that nothing has changed. Actresses wriggle around the pole and are pierced by the tireless phalluses of performers, whose role is reduced to standard ejaculation. But a full-fledged antagonist picture was catastrophically lacking. As in the canons of noir. Therefore, the heroine of the film had to fight only with herself and there is no victory and there is no emerging from the slimy slumber. Only drawing.
5 out of 10