I was kind of shocked by how much I enjoyed Domino. It was not a good movie, by any stretch of the imagination.
And the storyline made so little sense that you could actually see the actors falling through the piles of leaves and lath that had been kicked over the plot holes. But it was so aware of its own meta that I found myself forgiving it.
But it was very stylish, and the actors were all shiny and obviously having a good time, the characters are wonderful, the stunt casting (It's all stunt casting) was delightful, and it is a not-too-bad American approximation of some of the wacky ultraviolent slapstick comedy-of-criminal-errors you get in British movies like Snatch, coupled with a stylization that reminded me of Man on Fire. Actually, I think it's the unholy love-child of those two movies.
Except it lacked a Denzel Washington to force them to cut the stupid in the extreme romance plot. And the parents would consider it something of a disappointment in terms of artistic achievement, I think.
The boy was pretty, though. Pretty boy. *pets* Very pretty boy. He can take that shirt off any time.
And, you know, Mickey Rourke, Tom Waits, and Christopher Walken. What's not to love?
And I enjoyed the subversive little thing where the happy ending involves funding terrorism.
And the movie features a shotgun dismemberment, which is of course a topic near and dear to my heart.
Also recently seen, A History of Violence, which is exactly what the title says. And very, very good--a satisfying movie, for all its darkness and disturbing elements, and it's a joy to watch Viggo Mortensen completely--and effectively--underplay scenes against William Hurt and Ed Harris, both of whom will be picking carpet fibers out of their teeth for months. In a good way.
Mortensen is a tremendously effective physical actor, and one of the joys of this movie is watching him do that--shrug roles on and off like coats. Gorgeous.
I've also been walking around for the week since I saw it quoting lines from it, significantly, "I've heard this story." and "How do you fuck that up?" (It's Hurt's aggrieved delivery that makes the second line, and Mortensen's deadpan the first.)
Significantly, I note that in both of these R-rated, extremely violent movies (A History of Violence was the more graphic of the two, but neither one of them stints on the gore) there were children young enough to be in strollers. I mean, okay, I remember somebody taking me to see The Man from Snowy River when I was six or seven, but I was scarred for life by the scalping scene.