With a production as troubled as its star Lindsay Lohan, this un-erotic thriller is best viewed as a ghastly tableaux of the damnedCinema bows out with both a whimper and a bang in The Canyons, a punch-drunk and jaundiced piece of Hollywood noir that opens with a montage of ruined movie theatres and then proceeds to an orgy up in Beverly Hills. Director Paul Schrader is our guide through the rubble, working off an overwrought script from Bret Easton Ellis. The imperilled cast comes headed by wayward Lindsay Lohan and the smirking, blandly handsome James Deen, a veteran of the porn industry. All of them are going down, stuck together, and their dying fall commands a certain queasy fascination.Schrader’s picture flops into an out-of-competition slot at the Venice film festival off the back of a spectacularly troubled production history that has been partly blamed on the presence of Lohan, an actor still struggling to regain her equilibrium following spells in rehab and under house arrest. And yet, curiously, these offscreen torments have not so much destroyed the film as defined it. The Canyons gives us an erotic thriller in which the thrills have lost their force, the sex has lost …read more

Via: The Guardian | Books