The hygienization of Rio into what at times looks like a soulless Southern California town is so scandalous it feels like a spoof of the Cities of Love series.
As ever, writer-director Paolo Sorrentino ironically cuts the legs out from under his protagonists’ wistfulness with grotesquerie.
The one saving grace of Sicario is the considerable talent of cinematographer Roger Deakins.
This gorgeous, yet slimly supplemented, release places the film in the ideal cultural context: as last year’s ultimate art-house party movie.
There’s a great line in Jules and Jim about fictions that “revel in vice to preach virtue.”
Paolo Sorrentino’s film is really just a huge turn-on that has the bad manners to go sour, succumbing to its own self-delusions of moral/political grandeur.