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Saltburn

Saltburn

I’m not even going to complain that every single one of the characters in this “Talented Mr. Ripley” riff are totally unlikable, because that seems to be the point. What really sinks this overlong class drama is the miscalculation that certified weirdo thespian Barry Keoghan can elicit the kind of sympathy the audience needs to feel for the put-upon loner at the heart of this movie. Even in his most demure moments, Keoghan’s performance is conspicuously bizarre; there’s never not a moment where you’re not thinking, “This kid is going to do something bad.” That robs his dramatic turns in the second act and especially in the third act of any real shock value. It all just seems like a pro forma progression that hews too closely to clichéd ideas of what a “crazy character” would do. The script’s penchant for long soliloquies from supporting characters in indictment of Keoghan’s lead also feel like tiresome screenwriting. As the end credits rolled, Amazon suggested that I click right into Luca Guadadigno’s “Challengers,” which seems like the perfect double-feature. Like “Saltburn,” that movie too is nothing more than high class trash. A much better use of everyone’s time would be to watch “Purple Noon.”

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