Beyond the Clouds is a total stinkeroo--or I assume it is because I quit halfway through it out of sheer boredom. Not even gratuitious nudity from two quite fetching actresses could convince me to hang on for the third and fourth vignettes of the four the film comprises.
I read this on the NetFlix review site:
"Though severely hampered by a massive stroke, director Michelangelo Antonioni continues as strong as ever in his quest to deliver divine, melancholy images in his movies."
Perhaps a massive stroke justifies this film, but otherwise it's as though Zalman King decided to make Red Shoe Diaries without any actual sex. Sure, like The Cell, lots of great individual shots--Sophie Marceau's nude form makes any camera angle appear inspired--but apparently Antonioni's condition caused him to forget that a film is more than just photography.
John Malkovich narrates with a driveling monologue that I thought at first was meant to be satirical, until it went on and on and on and on and...you get the idea.
Pretentious, plotless, pathetic--an unintentional parody of the quintessential European film a'la Last Year at Marienbad.
