The Godfather of film critics, Rex Reed, slammed Jennifer Lawrence’s new movie “mother!” and says he got sick of seeing Lawrence on the screen. According to Reed, the film is not only the worst movie of the year, it’s the worst movie of the century. He was brutal in his description of the movie and also of Lawrence’s acting, if you can call it that.
The director is Darren Aronofsky, Lawrence’s current boyfriend. Lawrence’s career has been on a sharp down slide ever since she started acting like the deranged liberal she is, even blaming President Trump’s election for Hurricanes Harvey and Irma. Only her last X-Men movie made money and that made a lot less money than projected, possibly due to the fact she has alienated half of the country.
According to the Observer:
From the idiotic drug-addict hokum Requiem for a Dream to the overrated, overwrought and over-hyped Black Swan, which I called “a lavishly staged Repulsion in toe shoes,” the films of wack job Darren Aronofsky have shown a dark passion for exploring twisted souls in torment.
But nothing he’s done before to poison the ozone layer prepared me for mother!, an exercise in torture and hysteria so over the top that I didn’t know whether to scream or laugh out loud. Stealing ideas from Polanski, Fellini and Kubrick, he’s jerrybuilt an absurd Freudian nightmare that is more wet dream than bad dream, with the subtlety of a chainsaw.
This delusional freak show is two hours of pretentious twaddle that tackles religion, paranoia, lust, rebellion, and a thirst for blood in a circus of grotesque debauchery to prove that being a woman requires emotional sacrifice and physical agony at the cost of everything else in life, including life itself.
That may or may not be what Aronofsky had in mind, but it comes as close to a logical interpretation as any of the other lunk-headed ideas I’ve read or heard. The reviews, in which a group of equally pretentious critics frustratingly search for a deeper meaning, are even nuttier than the film itself. Using descriptions like “hermeneutic structure,” “phantasmagoric fantasia,” “cinematic Rorsach test” and “extended scream of existential rage,” they sure know how to leave you laughing.
Reed says you will find yourself trying to find the plot for the full two hours of the movie. But it is a search in vain. He suggests you forget the reviews and make up your own plot line, as the movie is so confusing that all of the other critics found it meaning something different from everyone else.
She appears onscreen for 66 of the 120 minutes and Reed said he wished it had been a lot less and her biggest contribution to the movie was the ability to shout “Stop” very loudly.
Reed issued the following parting shot:
Nothing about mother! makes one lick of sense as Darren Aronofsky’s corny vision of madness turns more hilarious than scary. With so much crap around to clog the drain, I hesitate to label it the “Worst movie of the year” when “Worst movie of the century” fits it even better.
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