By: Annie Sudler
Winter is a big time of year for us film nerds, as the Oscars train begins to approach the station. From Scorsese's sprawling historical epic Killers Of The Flower Moon to the IMAX war biopic Napoleon, from Timmy C.’s family musical Wonka to a box-office hit’s prequel The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, we’re seeing massive films hit screens that will all almost certainly vying for a Best Picture nomination.
Oh, yeah, and Saltburn, the most insane movie I have ever fucking seen.
As we dive in, I’ll lay the ground rules. Spoilers lie within. Don’t ruin this for yourself (It’ll be streaming on Prime Video before Christmas, don’t get mad). Also, this won’t be a movie review. You want my review? “I fucking loved it.” There it is. I am not going to waste my time trying to talk you into seeing it. If my four-word review didn’t sell you, then that’s not my problem. This article isn’t for you, in that case. This article IS for the rest of you, though. The rest of us. Those of us who went into Saltburn thinking, “Huh, this looks good” and left thinking, “Oh fuck, this is all I want to talk about forever.” Besides, I used to write reviews in high school (some of which are published online, if any detectives wanna waste some time), and review format is BORING. Let’s just chat.
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Well, I set up that paragraph closer for a nice little transition, and I’m blowing it right now because where the ACTUAL fuck do I start with this movie? Saltburn is… it’s an experience. And I say that for real, not in a shitty Disney blogger way. I think it’s important to look at this movie in the context of some hits from this past decade. Nostalgia sells, and no one has been beating that dead horse harder than the Duffer and Russo Brothers. These two sets of brothers (twins? I have no idea, actually) took out their sadomasochistic rage on the broken corpse of the horse once known as Cinema, flogging it to a pulp which they then poured into styrofoam cups and served to us. Drink up, extra-large skinless, toothless, meaningless, contextless, sexless, PG-13 entertainment. And we did! I sat my ass down and LISTENED as that formula gave us montage after montage of superheroes being all cool set to That 80’s Song You Love. And that was enough. And then I turned sixteen.
Batshit insane movies have always existed. They’re nothing new. I mean, David Lynch has been making movies for three times longer than I’ve been alive. And he’s just one guy! But since I’ve been old enough to appreciate those weird little fucking films, I don’t really remember one that took off amongst Gen Z like Saltburn has. I mean, we’re the generation that has literally had a study done about the fact that on average, we don’t wanna see movies with an emphasis on sex and/or love (x). And yet, Saltburn prevails! It’s all over Tik Tok, Twitter (I won’t call it the other name, get fucked), Yik Yak- we can’t stop talking about it. And since the exact moment the lights came up on my solo theater experience (that’s an entire article in itself, holy shit. I digress.), I’ve been trying to figure out why. What is it about Saltburn that’s making our Mormon-curious generation tick? As of the time of writing, I believe I have a theory that may be an answer:
WEIRD-ASS LITTLE GUYS.
That’s right. That’s the theory. My working theory on why Saltburn was so attractive to us all is that it’s not the same as those movies with romance and sex and all that, because at the core of Saltburn is one thing: a Weird-Ass Little Guy. Weird-Ass Little Guys (herein abbreviated as WALG[s]) are all the rage right now, but that’s not even new! As long as there have been Hot Protagonists, there’s been a WALG by their side doing all the interesting things you wish the piece focused on instead of the Hot Protagonist sucking and fucking their way through the narrative. Shakespeare was the first to subvert this when he penned Hamlet, a brave play that asked the then-radical question, “What if the Hot Protagonist was actually the side character, and the WALG was actually the main one?” We’re STILL doing that play because it gave us what we wanted- a weird fucking dude doing some weird fucking stuff for over two hours. Famous works since then have used this formula to varying levels of success. Godfather? Pacino WALGs out. Waiting for Godot? Three WALGs, one unseen. The Dark Knight? WALG Batman, unbroken ground. The Glass Menagerie? Our boy Tenny W. made his self-insert a god! damn! WALG! It works every goddamn time, except when it doesn’t. This is called a Jared Leto Joker Temporal Pincer Movement, it’s very rare. Don’t worry about it.
This is why Saltburn works! It’s not Euphoria, with its glittery raves thrown by 23-year-old high schoolers who are constantly having sex and looking hot. In Saltburn, we get those raves and inaccurately-aged casting choices, but focused in on one Weird-Ass Little Guy and the horrifying ways he deals with having hot people in his vicinity. I’m not saying his actions are justified, but let’s all be honest with ourselves - if SIX FOOT FIVE Jacob Elordi got homoerotic with you as you spent the summer living with him and his equally attractive family, would you be normal about it? Sure, you might not get dick-deep in a pile of dirt or go fully totally batshit insane, but I know I’d be dancing naked if I were alone! And so would you! That’s called human nature.
That’s the power of a good movie: it opens your eyes to the Weird-Ass Little Guy in your own heart. Nurture him, and take good care of him, lest he Saltburn everything around him. Go dance naked, king. You deserve it.
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