By Eileen Jones
Don’t be fooled by how amusing this image looks.
You ever sit through the rough cut of your friend’s independent film? Well, I have, lotsa times, God help me, so seeing Oliver Stone’s W. really brought back some nauseating memories. It seems to run about eight hours and is so boring, so fatheaded, and so full of lame attempts at profundity that it’s just like the rough cut of almost every terrible independent film ever made. You can practically feel the director sitting behind you while it unspools, breathing on the back of your neck and willing you to see the brilliance of his vision.
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October 20th, 2008 | Comments (1)
