You Were Never Really Here  • UK, France, USA Finally! Finally! Jonny Greenwood plays his fucking guitar for a soundtrack. I might have punted this film if it weren't for the score. Well, maybe not. Joaquin Phoenix is uber-mesmerizing. The photography, its framing, its angles, is gorgeous. The sound design is astonishing in the way that it melds the cacophony of New York street noise into the score melodically and rhythmically. That blew me away. If all the interspersed dreams, hallucinations, memories--whatever they were-- were inserted more gracefully, more softly, I would have thought: "Okay, dream logic. Don't expect much, just let it flow over you. I'm cool with that". But they weren't. They were inserted bombastically, loudly. This gave the impression they were going to add up, they were going to mean something, be worthwhile. For me, they weren't. I don't care if the protag was or wasn't a war vet; if he had an incestuous relationship with his mother; if he was abused as a child. He was just a bad dude with a hammer who may or may not have rescued a little girl from pedophile politicians. Watch it loudly.