What can I say about the essence of what I saw?
I'll say right away that I finished watching it the second time, because the first time I turned it off right at the credits, where in the first seconds the camera of the loser operator slowly moves along the juicy girls with curves, hips and breasts and eventually stops at the most unattractive dried-up babe with 75A, here I became sad and pressed stop on the remote, spitting on the carpet and remembering the dogma of all psychologists that the first seconds of acquaintance are the most informative and there is no point in eating low-fat if 25% sour cream is sold nearby, and you are healthy.
Well, and the second inclusion.
Only a couple of moments really cut the sophisticated soul: of course, the bumper of the luxurious six-liter white Caddy, which had difficulty getting off the tow truck, was torn off with a crunch, something went wrong with the all-wheel drive, and the clumsy stripper boots of the main character, which were so dissonant with the fur coat made of Soviet sable that even the gray and plump Elton John, the fashion icon of all chief accountants of oil refining divisions, stuttered loudly and coughed up fruit vape from immigration.
I also liked the authentic diesel Mercedes W123 with rusty windshield wiper arms from the hero-bandit's grandmother, on whose nozzle our sable blockhead climbed out of habit at the end of the film, generally reminiscent of a similar incident from his first almost cracked film NINE AND A HALF WEEKS with Mickey Rourke and Kim Basinger.
I can't add anything from my impressions, and the reviews I read in the feed make me feel Spanish shame.
Have we really reached the point where, in an attempt to find something artistic and justifiable for spending 2 hours of life on a modern film, censors squeeze a drop of nectar from the nipples of a dead platypus, but this is the same Sisyphean labor as trying to enthusiastically analyze Taylor Swift's latest album? Against 80s disco, tunes that everyone from babies and TikTokers to Bentley-driving startups in California know by heart and will hum for the next 30 years until we all reboot.
By the way, the bald gopnik from Anora has been nominated for an Oscar. A kind of scavenger, picking up the remains of the offal of elders that they did not finish eating or gnawing.
