Burning Man

says a lot about this smugly manipulative screenplay that despite the kaleidoscopic structure (pitched like a whirlwind of memories racing through your mind as you try to sleep) half the lines and events were anticipated. it's a faux-edgy treatment of the big C (no, not dyslexia), full of award-baiting sex and energy and assholeish behaviour, yet mawkish and stale all the same. the metaphors are facepalmingly blunt, and the scene with the doctors is one of the more obnoxious in recent memory.

Hey guess what, turns out what Lynne Ramsay does is actually really difficult to pull off. It requires a painter's deft touch in the cutting room to craft a subjective, non-linear portrait of an unlikeable character, you can't just throw your negatives in a mulcher and hope what comes out the bottom is coherent, let alone watchable.