Moodysson is well-versed in bleakness, but Mammoth lacks the emotion shown in his acclaimed Lilya 4-Ever, while the writer/director's flair for social exploration here seems incomplete.
A return to form by Moodysson although the bigger Iñárritu-like stuff - globalisation, poverty, fraying family relationships - are all a bit too neat to really engage.
The preaching soon grows wearisome.
Mammoth reeks of sentimentality, evasion and condescension.
Please use the link to reference this article. Do not copy & paste articles which is a breach of FT.com's Ts&Cs (www.ft.com/servicestools/help/terms) and is copyright infringement. Send a link for free or email ftsales.support@ft.com to purchase rights. http://www.ft.com/cms/s/2/6cab4a32-e76b-11df-b5b4-00144feab49a.html#ixzz14Mcfbd3M Someone needs to tell Moodysson to make another movie like his first, with a small budget, no stars, and none but the slenderest, most superfine idea.
I can't imagine anyone, other than Bono, liking this film.
The cameraman, Marcel Zyskind (Code 46), knows how to play up visual alienation better than anyone, but it’s a waste of his talents when all the film achieves is a kind of bewildered solipsism.
The crude liberal hand-wringing is of a familiar kind.
As a high end soap opera, it’s highly watchable. But it doesn’t have anything original to say on its subject and nowhere startling to go.
Swedish writer/director Lukas Moodysson claws his way back into the mainstream with this condescending, glossy slice of We Are The World-style film-making.
General release. Check local listings for show times.
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