Titus: The First Twenty Minutes

Alright, Julie. What gives?

I don't like you. I don't like you Julie Taymor, because you think sooo highly of yourself that you assume people will be willing to sit through 3 hours of your bullshit art direction without anything else to carry us along like, say, a sooooul?

Lucky for you, Shakespeare provided a story. So he gave you some semblance of a plot. At least it wasn't another Across the Universe mess where you don't even feel obligated enough to string a respectful plot line between your fancy pants bedazzles and shmefrazzles. At least you had a story with some sort of depth to work with. Only, you know... you don't give a shit about that. You rely on Anthony Hopkins and Alan Cumming to over assert themselves so that we maybe sorta feel like what's going on outside of the fantastical imagery matters. But you don't really care that they're trying. You don't expect them to try. You probably couldn't have cared less if they hadn't.

The language is forced. Jessica Lange is awwwwful. The imagery is disjointed. It doesn't work in any cohesive fashion, and is overbearingly "clever" to the point of pretentiousness. And it doesn't come out of the story. You take your ideas and you force them into the source material.

Your work isn't inspired, it's flaunty and self-congratulating.

I'm only twenty minutes in and this shit isn't worth my time.

I hope you get hit in the skull with a brick.

Love,
Andrew

P.S. What the fuck is this bullshit with the little boy? It's retarded and cliche to the point where I can't even find and use a constructive vocabulary. Fuck this shit. Fuck shit piss. Piss shit. Ass.