Timothée Chalamet stars in ‘Bones and All’ | Jobi Cool


Timothée Chalamet and Taylor Russell in Bones and All.

Timothée Chalamet and Taylor Russell in Bones and all.
Photo: Yannis Drakoulidis/Metro Goldwyn Mayer Pictures

In a cannibalistic road-movie romance Bones and allThe central suffering of the characters is treated not only as a carnivorous biological need (hereditary, no less) but also as a kind of shared language, spiritual and social bond. Cannibals can smell each other, we’re told, and the more experienced ones can smell their fellow human flesh-eaters from miles away. As such, it’s tempting to read the cannibalism in the film as some sort of metaphor, although it could actually represent anything. And the whole monstrous-terms-metaphors-for-forbidden-desire thing went away years ago. Director Luca Guadagnino wisely makes sure not to play things too loosely or abstractly. He really goes cannibalistic, hanging blood and gore and pieces of flesh from people’s mouths. He may have high-minded reasons for making the film, but he also clearly enjoys grossing us out.

So at least there is. happiness of Bones and all Being abrupt and, sadly, fleeting – an impressively terrifying scene here, an arresting performance there. The film, as a whole, never quite hangs together, as even as it moves at the pace of both a road movie and a romance, it never quite finds the animating energy to drive it along. It wants to move us, but it feels cold and empty—curiously bloodless, despite everything, you know, blood.

Part of the problem may be the lack of chemistry between its two stars. This does not mean that they are not talented. As the protagonist, Maren Ann, who finds herself on her 18th birthday after being abandoned by her father, Taylor Russell brings just the right wild curiosity, eyes that see you and a hungry bent that hints at the hunter below; His posture, we imagine, may be the same as whether he is tearing into the body or seeking self-knowledge.

However, Lee, as a Kentucky drifter with whom Maren quickly falls in love, seems unable to muster anything like Timothée Chalamet passion. To be fair, part of this is by design: Another cannibal (played very gamely by Michael Stuhlbarg) suggests that Lee is holding back his urges, that he’s trying to maintain a sense of control over his chaotic reality. The still-innocent Maren has all kinds of questions about their situation, and the standoffish Lee doesn’t seem eager to answer them. But Chalamet’s performance doesn’t convey this inner conflict; No tension behind the eyes. We have a handsome man with big hair and extraordinarily ripped jeans struggling with a country boy accent.

Could this film be made? The actor has certainly proven his range and skill in previous films, including Guadagnino’s own masterpiece. Call me by your name. But this time, he directed more like a movie star than an actor—a presence rather than a person. It feels like an absolutely wrong choice for this particular artist. This prevents the film from having any kind of pulse.

Guadagnino also surrounds his young lovers with grotesque, over-the-top performances that heighten the exotic nature of this world. Chief among them is Mark Rylance, playing an eccentric, nomadic cannibal named Sully who gives Maren a rudimentary lesson in how to feed herself, but whose motives remain delightfully mysterious. Rylance can turn a gentle murmur into a menacing glare at a moment’s notice. You want to laugh at his performance, but it’s a nervous giggle – yes, the character is funny, but we really, really don’t know what he’s going to do. Chloë Sevigny briefly shows up late in the film for a quiet, scarred scene. These performances are probably there to contrast the stability and peace our heroes seek, but they inadvertently remind us of a more compelling movie. Bones and all could have been

The director tries to fill in the blanks where the emotional engagement should be with some good photography and a flood of music, most of which includes an emphatic, sub-Sundance. wrong– a folk score that, unsurprisingly, is credited to Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross. The approach may have worked once. Wim Wenders used to make movies like this in his sleep. But those classic road movies worked because those directors (and others who entered the genre, such as Terrence Malick and Gus Van Sant) clearly shared — and even love — the land and the people along the way. It is difficult to sense any similar affection or interest in this world on the part of Guadagnino. The entire film, for all its gore and animalistic abandon, feels like a dutiful, skin-deep pastiche.

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