Yuck, Caution

I can’t believe how lame Lust, Caution is. Not even worth a rent. Anthony Quinn in the Independent nails it:

The climactic set-piece at a jeweller’s has been brewing since the prologue however many minutes (hours?) before, and offers the prospect of a showdown between opponents who’ve been shadow-boxing from the start. Instead, it’s all over in 30 seconds flat. Lee pulls the rug from under us, it’s true, but only because his denouement is so outlandish. Either something has been lost in the story’s translation or its view of women as double agents is desperately cynical.

Who knew that a nice girl’s head could be so turned by rough sex and a diamond the size of a quail’s egg? I’ve heard of the madness of love, but this is pushing it.

The last sentence captures exactly my reaction. Lame, lame, lame.

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