The first 90 minutes of Saltburn are a lavish, delectably carnal exploration of utmost fixation. It's unfortunate, then, that this exploration is subsequently dismantled by a protracted and largely joyless twist ending. Rather than revel in the ambiguity it so deftly cultivates, daring us to wonder about the depths of its characters' (self-)deception and stunted sincerity, the film spends its last 30 minutes tidying up all its loose ends, complete with flashbacks. Any wonder one might have held is quashed here, as the film reveals that nearly everything was meticulously arranged by one character with a singular, ultimately shallow purpose. I'd have preferred some kind of cliche tragic love story ending, frankly, as the film had up to that point left enough unspoken to make those particulars worth pondering. Shame.
Speaking of shallow, I cannot get over the way Barry Keoghan looks in this film. He's supposed to be 18 and 36 at the same time, and his lean, well-muscled body clashes horribly with his role as a bookish outcast loner. He's in better shape than Elordi, even. Don't get me wrong, his acting is terrific, but I couldn't stop thinking about Ben Platt's performance in 'Dear Evan Hanson' whenever they gave us a close-up of his face or a shot of him shirtless.
A Tragic Twist (Mild Spoilers)
MILD SPOILERS FOLLOW
The first 90 minutes of Saltburn are a lavish, delectably carnal exploration of utmost fixation. It's unfortunate, then, that this exploration is subsequently dismantled by a protracted and largely joyless twist ending. Rather than revel in the ambiguity it so deftly cultivates, daring us to wonder about the depths of its characters' (self-)deception and stunted sincerity, the film spends its last 30 minutes tidying up all its loose ends, complete with flashbacks. Any wonder one might have held is quashed here, as the film reveals that nearly everything was meticulously arranged by one character with a singular, ultimately shallow purpose. I'd have preferred some kind of cliche tragic love story ending, frankly, as the film had up to that point left enough unspoken to make those particulars worth pondering. Shame.
Speaking of shallow, I cannot get over the way Barry Keoghan looks in this film. He's supposed to be 18 and 36 at the same time, and his lean, well-muscled body clashes horribly with his role as a bookish outcast loner. He's in better shape than Elordi, even. Don't get me wrong, his acting is terrific, but I couldn't stop thinking about Ben Platt's performance in 'Dear Evan Hanson' whenever they gave us a close-up of his face or a shot of him shirtless.