There’s an ancient rule of thumb for judging films: if you don’t like the way a movie spans out in the first 5-10 minutes, it’s rubbish and will stay that way up until the end. However, there are always exceptions, and Nightcrawler has proven to be a great one; a film that has somewhat of a mediocre, subtle beginning, it drastically improves towards the end, the final scene being its apex, a point of great revelation where the film relinquishes its moral to the viewer. Fantastic! Be that as it may, personally, Nightcrawler does not deserve a place in IMDB’s Top 250; with all the intriguing, fascinating twists and turns, Jake Gyllenhaal’s superb, convincing role of a rotten, cross-all-over aspiring genius of a news reporter (and some more), just doesn’t do it for me. It’s absolutely stunning, it made you think very hard towards the final half-hour, relating Gyllenhaal’s vile atrocities to someone you may know or heard of (maybe even yourself!), but something’s missing. It’s that feeling of strange hollowness that makes you wonder - Hmm, I just walked out of the cinema, astonished, baffled and bemused... but I’m feeling quite depressed, as if I’m in a void of artificial entities and concepts, surrounded by a meaningless sense of utter absence.

Hmm... maybe it’s just me. That’s how my utterly confused, dissilusioned and disoriented mind is coping with the film and its scary moral.

$root - whoami
naive nightcrawler
On Not Fitting In

// Go back in time

Typing Viking

// To the future

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