Dual narratives – where fact meets fiction in race-hate America – work a treat.
For his latest directorial outing, George Clooney has given us a macabre comedy noir: watchable, lively, intricately designed, but with exotic plot contrivances and parallel storylines that don’t fully gel.
Suburbicon is a strange beast: a by-the-numbers ’40s film noir bolted to an unsatisfying ’60s racial drama wrapped up in a ’50s Americana satire. A strong cast and talented director never make the whole add up.
There is a fine line between a melt-in-the-mouth, light-as-a-feather Victoria Sponge and sticky mess with a soggy bottom. Suburbicon falls into the latter category.
Very entertaining in places and always intriguing, Suburbicon still has an oil and water mix that even Clooney can’t quite pull off.
There’s a vacuum of extreme privilege inhabited by movie stars as famous as Clooney. Which is fine, but it’s not a place from where you can get a particularly clear view of American society.
General release. Check local listings for show times.
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