How can the man who directed Slumdog Millionaire, Danny Boyle, create such a mishmash of unfathomable garbage? How can wonderful actors like Rosario Dawson, Vincent Cassel and James McAvoy, all competent and successful in their own rights, be a part of this? How can I, a man who has watched and scored nearly 3000 movies on IMDb.com, sit through this crap? The general public obviously agreed with me as Trance only earned $2,000,000 at the U.S. box office. That's about what a documentary on Newt Gingrich would do.
This is the essence of "directorial masturbation"! There is nothing redeeming about this movie! Cassel does his damnedest to save it but McAvoy seems lost. That has been kind of his shtick in the past, but here I was just as lost as he was and neither of us ever got found. And Dawson...you are hereby relegated to making straight to video B-movies. She was just terrible. Although if that was Rosario's naked body, shaved and all, walking into the bedroom, I am duly-impressed. If it wasn't her, that body should receive a credit all on it's own! Danny Sapani, as one of Cassel's thugs was the only likable character.
Trance ranks right up there with Plan 9 from Outer Space and Endless Love as one of the worst movies of all time. Off-topic I know, but Shana Feste, who has turned out two miserable excuses for movies, is re-making Endless Love. Somebody take away her keys before she kills someone.
It takes 101 minutes to kill off just about everyone. I could have done so in 18 and saved an hour-and-a-half. The movie goes back and forth so often between hypnotism-induced fantasy and reality, that after about 20 minutes the audience has no idea what is real and what isn't. Right up until the end. That worked for Memento and Matrix, but not Trance.
Maybe if you spent your childhood in a drug-induced coma and thought Trainspotting was genius, you will relate to Trance. Maybe if I was on "X" when I watched it, I could relate. Maybe I'll stop spewing out this vitriolic review and go watch a brilliant Greg Kinnear movie like The Matador, that nobody knows about, to get the regurgitated popcorn out of my mouth.
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