|
What can I say? It was free from the thematic juvenilia about equating murders with business (something Raskolnikov feared it might be about). It did try, somewhat perfunctorily, to satirise the Wall Street culture of the 1980s -- by showing people obsessed with brand names, name cards, in hang-outs, etc. But all these were pretty familiar and unscathing stuff. People invest their self-esteem in platinum credit cards! Wow, I'm mightily impressed.
I've no idea what the connection between the protagonist's serial killing and his being an investment banker was supposed to be. At first I thought an arrogant cocksure Wall Streeter was daring himself to overstep the bounds of mere mortals, then get away with it all and pat himself on the back for his daring. But no. It turns out he is just another insane person, but in a milieu not famous for serial killers.
A pretty stupid film. Much of the killing wasn't even inventive.
|
