The film ambled and dragged. Only in the final fifteen minutes did I think events were cohesive and interesting enough to attempt justification of buying a ticket. My favorite character, the man urging Bronson to pursue art, was introduced and allowed leave within this period of time. I missed him dearly.
Vignettes of Bronson's life turned into strings of bathroom florescent-lit visuals mixed with a distancing of the character too far to be liked or despised. A fourth in I began questioning staying, and checked my watch at one point hoping time really had slowed to a crawl and it wasn't just the movie.
Brief moments of excitement and three or four amusing lines kept the film from completely disappointing me, but I'd call the movie lackluster at best and bad as a whole. And, adding audial insult to the visual assaults, I couldn't stand the soundtrack. No, it was more than that. None of my senses agreed with Bronson. Blech.
- Eric T. Voigt