The down-to-earth Bening does not match the divaness of Grahame, nor does the introspective Bell align with the easygoing Turner. In the end, this story with so much potential falls short of expectations.
Though the film initially manages to grasp audience attention, its hold quickly loosens through its unchecked overeagerness to push humor at viewers, resulting in the unraveling of plot direction and an unclear tone.
The film caused me to physically react on numerous occasions; my jaw hung open, I gasped, I covered my mouth in awe. In terms of building visceral, gut-twisting situations, Garland proves himself as a master.
Despite its modern re-packaging, however, the story ultimately remains just as trite as ever, and the film stumbles through its runtime as it struggles to decide if it has anything of substance to say.