Damo Reviews: Uncut Gems

In 2017, in an unlisted CIA black site deep in the Cheyenne Mountains, a research and development team was tasked with inventing methods of coercing detained ISIS belligerents, stretching but not quite breaking the rules of the Geneva Convention Against Torture. The result of their experimentation is the film Uncut Gems. This film is bad. It isn't unintentionally bad, the way, say, the Emoji Movie is bad. This isn't the kind of film where the writers and directors have made a movie with the goal of creating something enriching and entertaining and then just failed miserably, in the way the Russo's did with Avengers: Endgame. No, Uncut Gems is intentionally bad. It is designed to assault the audience with a deluge of petty miseries over the course a couple of hours, breaking their resistance and leaving them begging to disclose the location of the bomb if only someone will just hit pause on the video. I imagine the elevator pitch for this film went something like "hey, you know that scene in Dumb and Dumber where Jim Carrey makes the most annoying sound in the world? Yeah, imagine that for two hours!" It is a non-stop tirade of entitled, rich people yelling at and over the top of each other, like an ESPN mid-week 'discussion' programme. It's an extended episode of Jersey Shore, except we're expected to believe it's a cinematic masterpiece because the Safdie Brothers desaturated the colours, which means everything is super serious and worthy of an Oscar. Pro-tip for the kiddies out there who want to grow up to be filmmakers: mess with the colours, that means you're an artist. Is that bad enough? Possibly, for you. Not for the Safdies and Adam Sandler. No, they want you to suffer as much as possible. So now think of the worst movie you've ever seen, with dialogue scrawled on the back of a napkin in a dive bar after trying to lip-read a reality programme on mute, and now take the soundtrack to TRON (the original, not the Daft Punk version) and play it constantly at full volume until it almost, but not quite, drowns out the perpetual nasal mumbling of serious actor Adam Sandler. Uncut Gems feels like Dante Alighieri fell asleep watching Punch Drunk Love and drinking room temperature cream. If you were to blindfold me, put me in a dark room in Guantanamo Bay and then play Uncut Gems while also pushing a power drill through my left temple, I honestly wouldn't be able to tell you which was which. This film is an oppressive miasma of wannabe-auteur wank, pure onanism without regard for entertainment, and it is the surest sign that god is dead - because no omnipotent being would ever have allowed this to be made.

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