Denis Villeneuve
Enemy

Dear Reader who reads the title, looks at the stars, and skips the review to go comment: welcome to a new episode of yes, I do love you, mom, it's just that I don't feel like recommending it to you. A show that started a long time ago, but without notice, so this is the first official episode. The pilot review.

One of the various reasons that drives me to write is that maybe I have homosexual urges towards Jake ghilengeheha.... I don't know. I just made the diagnosis right now, so I'll let you know soon. For now, I am still ecstatic from the vaginal scent.

And the stuff isn't bad, you know. I saw a frame of the film around, with Jake ghilengeheha, thought of Nightcrawler, and immediately said well, come on, let's do it. So I watched the film, just for him, that's it. It's stuff of decade-old ignorance because if you look carefully even just at the name in the director's seat, it turned out to be the one they considered for the sequel to Blade Runner, the one who almost twenty years ago started with August 32nd on Earth, a largely valid romantic comedy-drama, which made me illegally download Incendies that I still have to watch, just like Prisoners, another Villeneuve+ghilengeheha combo. In short, I could have studied more, as usual.

Enemy is a film adaptation of a novel (The Double or Duplicated Man, author you're surely reading forgive me) that could be analyzed scene by scene, could be the subject of debates that annoy to no end, like the debate that followed Memento, where you can also watch it and say I liked it! but five years later you can't stand it anymore because it's like hearing Asereje. Ah. De he. En de buidi dipí.
Talking about it decently without revealing some little spoilers is impossible, but since I have unheard wisdom and foresight, knowing that even with spoilers nothing decent would come out (there's a difference between modesty and sheer objectivity), I avoid spoilers, so perhaps I'm doing you a favor.

Plot-wise, without saying practically anything: a history professor in his forties is in the faculty room chatting with a colleague. "I recommend 'Desire and Power,' good film Dios fa." He doesn't need to be told twice and rents it. In the film, he sees an extra who looks incredibly similar to him.

Now that I think about it, the two-line sentence above isn't terrifying. But it's not terrifying at all. In fact, there could have been an enthusiastic and cheerful reaction to such an inciting incident. No. Because the story has its sense, and the mood is as gloomy as few. Eighty minutes of film that fly by enough to make it seem like a psychoanalytical short, another reason to watch it twice, to best formulate your own hypothesis, and enjoy a fortunate combo of brilliant elements. I still don't know why, I will need some time to say it well, but many elements reminded me of that beast of Possession, this underlines that it is not a theme staged for the first time, far from it; just as the soundtrack pleasantly reminded me of S. And S stands for ?

How's the direction. My friend, how's it in your stomach? It's dark. It's hard to fight, to know ourselves, to accept ourselves, to understand what changed us and why. You say I won't spoil then you talk to me about the ending? I get it, but when Jake falls into it again, humanely, as a man inevitably attracted to the flesh and the end comes, it's no longer possible to enjoy the frenetic, wonderful credits over an illuminated Toronto that has been kept hidden throughout the film, because the mind is stuck there, at that moment, at that indescribable scene.