Director: Alejandro González Iñárritu
Year Released: 2003
After slicing and dicing the narrative up to the point where no two scenes attached to each other are 'in order,' Iñárritu and his crew essentially destroy their own story - it goes from kitchen-sink drugs-sex-revenge to wannabe avant-garde-ism. The reason for them doing it may be to hide the story's pathetic religious overtones and general lack of originality. Further, the diced assemblage masks the very obvious fact that all of these people - Watts, Gainsbourg, Sean Penn and Benicio Del Toro - are all slimy, miserable and barely likeable individuals, so self-absorbed and emotionally ugly that, if the dwarf from Terry Zwigoff's Bad Santa were around, he would probably tell them that their "souls are dog shit." Which makes me wonder: how much does dog shit weigh?