High Rise has achieved a remarkable trick. To be able to understand this mess of a movie you have to have read the book, the film then deviates from the book to such an extent that anyone who has actually read the book will be deeply frustrated.
What the film does have in common with the original source material is a failure to explain how exactly a building filled with middle and upper class professionals regresses into violent tribalism just because the swimming pool is closed. Ballard was no help here at all, so to try and make sense of it all Wheatley tries to explain it all away by implying that the residents have a psychological rather than sociological collapse. By the end of the film the main character is gibbering to himself and his next door neighbour has turned into psychopathic serial killer. However this is no more convincing an explanation than Ballards and undermines the whole premise of the film.
This situation is not helped by some very average performances, Luke Evans' Wilder does not have the large Rugby League brooding menace that role requires. James Purefoy is worse as the upper class Pangborne, which is weird since he is clearly naturally posh, so I am not sure why he decided to go the extra mile and go full Hugh Grant crossed with Prince Charles. Tom Hiddlestone is excellent in the lead role but not even he can make a real fist of it.
The real star perhaps is the building itself, beautifully filmed and utterly grotesque, nevertheless when the best bit of a movie is a concrete block you really should not let this film interrupt your time on earth.
Unfortunately for me I convinced my other half to read the book so we could watch the film together, "That's a week of my life I won't get back" was her view, I couldn't disagree.
Don't go.
What the film does have in common with the original source material is a failure to explain how exactly a building filled with middle and upper class professionals regresses into violent tribalism just because the swimming pool is closed. Ballard was no help here at all, so to try and make sense of it all Wheatley tries to explain it all away by implying that the residents have a psychological rather than sociological collapse. By the end of the film the main character is gibbering to himself and his next door neighbour has turned into psychopathic serial killer. However this is no more convincing an explanation than Ballards and undermines the whole premise of the film.
This situation is not helped by some very average performances, Luke Evans' Wilder does not have the large Rugby League brooding menace that role requires. James Purefoy is worse as the upper class Pangborne, which is weird since he is clearly naturally posh, so I am not sure why he decided to go the extra mile and go full Hugh Grant crossed with Prince Charles. Tom Hiddlestone is excellent in the lead role but not even he can make a real fist of it.
The real star perhaps is the building itself, beautifully filmed and utterly grotesque, nevertheless when the best bit of a movie is a concrete block you really should not let this film interrupt your time on earth.
Unfortunately for me I convinced my other half to read the book so we could watch the film together, "That's a week of my life I won't get back" was her view, I couldn't disagree.
Don't go.
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