Saltburn (2023)
A lady at work, who has similar tastes to mine, told me she saw Emerald Fennell’s Saltburn three times over the Christmas break. Another lady at work, also with similar tastes to mine, said she’d turned it off because it tries too hard to be shocking. I loved Fennell’s Promising Young Woman and if someone tells me a film tries to shock, I want to see what it’s got. Shake me like a British Nanny, Saltburn!
At Oxford University back in what young people think is ages ago, but as a man in his late thirties (forty) seems like yesterday, 2006 or something, Barry Keoghan’s Oliver Quick is a pauper promoted to the dubious elite by way of an unstable friendship with Jacob Elordi’s privileged Felix. An offer to stay at the titular regal home of Felix’s family, Saltburn, kicks off an unfortunate series of events.
The carnival of chaos and carnage evolves slowly and deliberately. The film starts circling the drain when its story centres on Saltburn. Is the film a comedy? Yes, in a way. Is it a thriller? It grows into one. Is it a film which needs your time and attention? Yes. Is that rewarded? Well, that is down to you. Saltburn’s shocking moments definitely did it for me in a gross out way, but I recommend you see it because Saltburn is at the very least, its own beast.
You will never be able to hear Murder on the Dancefloor in the same way again.
Easy on the eye, and ocular opening in places, but in a way which is not what you might expect. Saltburn is moving too, in weird parts and askew directions. Stripped back, it’s actually a very simple film made to feel complex, but that’s a compliment, not a criticism. I enjoyed it. 8/10
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