Watched

Beat That My Heart Skipped last night. It has received glowing reviews around the world, but I have to say it left me somewhat cold. It is a remake of Fingers, but, unusually for a French 'intellectual' film, lacked for me any real psychological or emotional depth. The delineation of the protagonist's life into the two spheres of 'work' (his father, his colleagues, his job, violence and sex) and 'art' (his mother, his piano tutor, his emotions) was too clear. He seemed to exist only at one of two extremes, and although the tension and conflict between these two spheres was intriguing, the lack of subtlety or the examination of the varying shades of grey between the two left me somewhat disappointed.