I could pitch my reactions to Neil Jordan’s glorious Breakfast on Pluto as yet another spin on the politics vs. personal desire/domesticity discussion, or as a glam-rock rejoinder (or alternative chorus) to Brokeback‘s mournful fiddle, or simply say:
It’s the most fun I have had at the movies all year. (Tied, if I’m totally honest, with Kung Fu Hustle, but its pleasures are very, very different.) The soundtrack is perfect, the images saturated with color, the performances stellar. And it’s moving, funny, thrilling. I’m torn between wanting to read the novel or just see the film again.