I've only burned one book in my entire life, and it was a novel by Hanif K. At the time I had very little money to spend on non-essentials, and was so disappointed in his book that I wanted to get back the 14 $ I'd paid for it --utterly valueless--in some other form of entertainment. So I burned it in the fireplace.
I'd forgotten that until I saw this movie, scripted by the same author. Had forgotten how irritating his trite, lifeless dialog can be. I keep watching because the characters are so self-pitying and pathetic. They seem like they've been locked in a cave for 20 years and haven't had a real conversation in 30. Their relationship seems like a kind of awful prison. Real Philosophy professors are engaging, challenging, brilliant people...and they simply do not talk, think, or act like such insecure, lost milksops. (See the scene in Godard's Vivre sa Vie...there's a philosophy professor true to life)
Maybe its cathartic to hear one's deepest, most gruesome worst fears and thoughts put on screen like that. That is what Hanif does. Tabloid headlines made into dialog.
But its not art. Not what art should be, anyway.
Unfortunately I can't burn a film.
But Lindsay Duncan is beautiful enough to keep watching. It didn't cost me 14$. So its better than his book.
