In The Name Of

It is very rarely that I am moved to swear, but this film has just about done it for me. Every single atom of its production smells of bullshit.

I consider myself a ‘nice’ reviewer. I tend to enjoy most films, even if they are mind-numbingly shallow and completely hollow, so long as they are actually enjoyable to watch. But I just can’t bring myself to be nice about in the name of. Trust me, I tried; I ignored the awful all lower case title, I strained to keep track of the ridiculous plot and I kept my senses alert until the end of the credits in case of some sudden turnaround. Alas, there was none.

This is what the film appears to be about; women in varying states of undress entertaining men of varying positions of authority in the business world, all somehow linking to the sport of judo, which has about as much importance to the bulk of the film as a prosthetic urethra. Whatever the director thinks, this film is not about female empowerment and strength of mind. It is trying, admittedly not very hard, to be about these things but in its present state these factors are lost to the shallow attempts of the film to be ‘indie’ and at the same time ‘Hollywoody’.

There are no limits to the seemingly endless reels of image montages backed by sentimental songs, no limits to the supply of girls in underwear shots dancing around poles and in laps of business men, no limits to the ridiculously blatant symbols that scatter the film like stars in the sky. And there is absolutely no limit whatsoever to the absurdity of the script; the most fake ‘authentic’ script I have ever heard, and ever will; if you watch this film for anything do it for the hilarity of the appalling lines it churns out; ‘I wonder if you handle yourself as well in the bedroom’ being just one of the millions.

"Sex sells," one of the countless stereotypical characters states, but let’s hope he’s wrong. Because if sex sells, then this film will do much better than it deserves. It’s not interesting enough to give the streams of lapdance sequences any oomph, and isn’t explicit and authentic enough to be captivating as in the style of Y Tu Mama Tambien. It’s just there, for sex sake, which is one of the many mistakes this new director has made, and one of the many reasons why this film is simply appalling.