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SLIPSTREAM Send This Review to a Friend
The new film “Slipstream” better not fall into the hands of President Bush or the CIA or they may start using it along with waterboarding. Watching it is torture.
Anthony Hopkins, whose acting has been widely and justifiably praised, has written, directed, composed the music for and stars in the film, which has all the earmarks of a vanity production. The story, such as it is, involves the mental gyrations of a screenwriter (Hopkins) pouring out of him with a mix of imagination and real events in the process of making a movie.
Federico Fellini did something like that in his brilliant “8 ½.” Everyone has a right to try whether succeeding or failing. But Mr. Hopkins, alas, you are no Fellini.
There are amusing, satirical moments here and there, and a few reflecting dramatic sensibility, but by and large, the onslaught of imagery is a relentless hodgepodge. I would hate to have to count the number of frames in the deluge. Hopkins hurls them at us with a machine-gun effect that can be dizzying.
He has managed to enlist a worthy cast that includes John Turturro, Fionnula Flanagan, Kevin McCarthy and S. Epatha Merkerson, among others. But despite their efforts and the obvious dedication of Hopkins, I kept yearning for the film to end, and if I weren’t watching it professionally, I would have been out of there after the first half-hour. A Strand Releasing release.
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