yeah, I know — people say stuff like
“worst thing I’ve ever seen” all the time.
hyperbole. melodrama.
but this?
this piece of shit actually earns it.
three and a half hours.
not a movie — a jail sentence.
we follow this sad-eyed Hungarian-Jewish architect, László Tóth,
a Holocaust survivor with the emotional range of a bowl of cold turds.
adrien brody gives it his all —
but it’s like watching a man wrestle a ghost for meaning.
and the rest of the cast?
felicity jones drifts around like a woman smelling her own farts,
and guy pearce plays a rich man so constipated that he can barely sit still.
none of them seem to know why they’re here —
least of all the screenwriter.
everyone talks. and talks.
and talks.
long, winding monologues about trauma, architecture, immigration —
but none of it lands.
like someone turned a TED Talk into a hostage situation.
you don’t feel a thing,
except maybe the urge to check your pulse.
by the end, you’re not moved —
you’re just proud of yourself for surviving.
you want a medal.
you want your evening back.
watch this movie if you need help falling asleep.
