Saltburn

Look…everyone in this movie is beautiful - and they are frequently not wearing many clothes or, in the case of Rosamund Pike’s character, they are wearing gorgeous gowns in the middle of the afternoon. I was initially drawn into this gorgeous world - Oxford life, estates, dressing for dinner. But then everything turns into a vacuous, gratuitous, and bloody mess (specifically in the scene where Oliver declares, “You’re lucky I’m a vampire”). This movie doesn’t know what it wants to be - dark comedy (fail), a takedown of the rich (fail), a study of a sociopath (fail). Ultimately it’s just a frustrating, borderline offensive waste of time - an implausible narrative designed to titillate and shock but with absolutely no redemptive arc. Sure, I don’t mind seeing Barry Keoghan dancing naked to Sophie Ellis-Bextor’s “Murder on the Dance Floor,” but I need it to be in a completely different context. Go write “Saltburn” on a rock and throw it in the river - a better way to spend your time than watching this film.