Edmond (2006)
Runtime: 82 mins
Genre: Dramas
Starring: William H. Macy, Julia Stiles, Joe Mantegna, Rebecca Pidgeon, Mena Suvari
Buy It On DVD
Reviews
Hoy d%uFFFDa, (...) una pieza como Edmond no resulta todo lo inquietante que deber%uFFFDa. Eso quiz%uFFFDs sea lo verdaderamente llamativo.
"Edmond" is beyond black comedy, it's a comedy in almost total stygian darkness. A comedy where the laughs make you cough up razor blades.
Edmond is presented as the cold truth, but it's really just the truth of how the masculinist Mamet feels.
David Mamet's genius as a weaver of words and observer of human interaction is put on full display here ....
This is a small film with a big payback, like a series of tableaux that illustrate how a mildmannered Mr Everyman can become viciously untamed.
Is this about the nihilistic plight of the alienated, or just nihilistic? A coal-dark satire, or just needlessly dark? The uncomfortable Edmond asks more questions than it answers.
It plays like a low-cal Falling Down, with all the rage of Michael Douglas's office malcontent but none of his dark humour. Possibly the weakest thing Mamet has ever written.
Edmond is a slight, self-consciously arty affair that starts off like a gloomy version of Falling Down before petering out with a deeply anti-climatic ending.
The Falling Down-meets-After Hours pitch and plum cast (William H Macy, Rebecca Pidgeon, Bai Ling, Mena Suvari) look tempting, but it’s not a stretch to see why it’s sat on the shelf for two years.
If it's a relic you're determined to catch at the movies this week, check out Edmond.
The great man lets rip with deafening flatulent macho nonsense in a truly awful movie, one of the very worst US pictures to be released here in years.
Macy is on top form and Mamet fans will savour the vicious barbs of repressed male rage but many will find this is a claustrophobic, stagey exercise without the wit and scope of Glengarry Glen Ross.
The director fails to breathe any sort of life into a piece practically carbon-dated by its flailing assaults on political correctness.
Be thankful it’s not longer; at 80 minutes, one may still derive some perverse pleasure from the silliness of it all.
Whilst William H. Macy is as rewarding as ever, this has not transferred well from the stage.
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