There’s damning a movie with the faintest of praise, and then there’s damning a movie with so little praise that commending its actors for doing the bare minimum for playing snuff-hoovering trollops is the best you can do. Highly specific circumstances, yes, but parameters Roger Ebert once found himself in. In his defence, cocaine is basically the driving force behind the story, and thus, the film’s entire existence. There’s only so much any wri…
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