I firmly decided last night to duck this morning’s 8:30 am screenng of Park Chan–Wook‘s No Other Choice, and I don’t care about the hosannas that the whore contingent is sharing now.
Every time I see a Park Chan-Wook film, I have the same damn reaction — full respect for the visual chops (he’s quite the purveyor of cinematic swoon…a major stylistic maestro) with plot and character internals that feel thin and infuriating.
I’m not saying I won’t see it down the road, or that PCW isn’t a respected filmmaker. But after stumbling into the apartment last night at 1 am after an 18-hour day, soaked and whipped, I definitely didn’t feel that No Other Choice was worth the pain of rising at 6 am.
