Language in LWL

Owen Harris’ Kill Your Friends is a film which dares the viewer to utterly despise its every frame. Its raison d’être is to evoke unadulterated contempt – of people, of places, of trends, of art, of business, of everyone and everything. Its cocksure cynicism is precision primed to alienate.

In the paragraph above is a clear opinion summarising the writers thoughts on the film, being negative the writer wants the audience to know from the start their distaste towards the film - showing that the lwl magazine doesn't hold back on negative feedback. 

It’s a film which scribbles a chalk penis on the back of your jacket, nudges you into a job interview and then Periscopes the event from the corridor. Entirely in line with its unambiguous aims, this film does manage to inspire a sense of utter, putrefying revulsion towards it. The sheer, all-encompassing breadth of its casual abhorrence was in itself a feat. If you get a kick out of spending time with some of history’s most repellant shitbags, then Kill Your Friends is a double lottery win. Does the fact that this film achieves what it sets out to do make it a success? Yes and no. Even when you’re painting with dog shit, it’s always possible to produce an ugly picture – just as it’s equally possible to produce a pretty one. This one is a panoramic brown eyesore.

Again the second paragraph shares the writers distaste for the film along with sarcasm which is common in the reviews throughout the magazine. The writer tries to introduce some positivity into the review when saying 'Does the fact that this film achieves what it sets out to do make it a success? Yes and no' but the explanation turns it back onto negative.

Kill Your Friends runs with the vague and unconvincing assumption that there were certain parties within the British music industry of the mid- to-late ’90s who managed to coast along – excel, even – without expending an ounce of brain power. It was simply a case of careerist nit-wits making plays that were likely to get them a promotion, or nobble over one of their equally power hungry colleagues.

The third paragraph hints at parts of the films plot, being slightly more detailed but still brutal in its response. 

Nicholas Hoult plays charmless tosspiece Steven Stelfox – the slick ladder-climber who is bracingly honest about his complete dearth of professional nous and disinterest in the high-stakes world of music A&R. A voiceover narration states this point-blank were there any ambiguity over the matter, and this is intended as a way to help us empathise with Stelfox as he’s being forthright about his modest capabilities. Weak parodies of real bands are paraded through the offices, observations about how they’re fame-hungry parasites are passed off as cutting cultural commentary.

Yet again in the fourth paragraph refers to some context, rather than being informative it focuses on the negatives. However, the information/context given tells the audience the actor, introduces the character and sound so reading between the lines and looking at the information says a lot. 

A jolly to Cannes to find the next big superhit results in Stelfox picking up the rights to an awful, X-rated house tune when he sees people dancing to it in a club. He sees this high-risk ploy as a way to impress his bosses – his impulse that the public at large will eat up any old rubbish is shared by the filmmakers. It’s such a tin-eared, hollow, sneering depiction of the era that nothing even vaguely resembling valuable insight lands. 

Paragraph five talks more openly about the directors intentions that haven't worked as well as expected, the paragraph below follows this on. Making references to books that they have similarities too, then explaining more of the plots poor outcome along with slight references to genre.

What someone has then done is read Bret Easton Ellis’ American Psycho and taken its (admittedly strident) satirical intent at face value, as the second half of the film focuses on Stelfox’s transformation from cheeky chancer to actual homicidal maniac. With no sign that any of this should be consumed as an anti-corporate allegory, the film piles up the unlikely twists, the bumbling one-note characters and the “clever” set-pieces which exist to emphasise the sickening extent of Stelfox’s Machiavellian moxie. Bad writing and blind chance conspire to keep our hero out of prison. No-one cares what he’s doing – and that’s the joke.

Underneath the smile and the pluck, everyone is a self-serving, narcissistic cretin. Not only does this film want you to hate every fibre of its being, it hates you right back. Thanks.

To summerise the writer gave a short and honest end, being sarcastic but taking the opportunity to share how bad the film was. 

From this bad review it has shown me the harsher side of little white lies and they do not hold back on their opinions which is important to learn. Looking in class at other reviews the structure for most is:

1. contexts for the film
2. summary of information about protagonist/s and key players
3. key themes, issues and plot
4. narrative devices 
5. use and adaptation of genre
6. reviewers experience
7. summary sentence