David Lowery on Mr. Lonely

Last night I walked out of a movie after its first thirty minutes and wondered what the hell I was doing wasting my time with movies like this, with movies in general, with this very art form.

Tonight I saw Harmony Korine's Mr. Lonely. It made my heart swell up. Every image set off bursts of ideas and emotions and wordless hyperboles blooming across my brain; grandstanding thoughts and deep feelings and one very clear resolution: I was right all along. This is what I need to be doing.

What else to say about it now? The film is a masterpiece of iconographic narrative. It is a sublimely simple story wrapped around a mantra that slipped from the screen with the grace of some artisinal knife, delivering Korine's point so sharply and with such profound precision that when it was withdrawn I almost instantly forgot the words used to convey it. They were delivered by a faux-Queen, speaking from the heart, and perhaps I'll recall them in the morning. It's been a long day.