Antonio
Banderas stars as an author with a severe case of writer’s block who secludes
himself in his remote cabin in the woods to work on his next book. Through sheer boredom (I guess), he picks up
a drifter (Jonathan Rhys-Meyers) and lets him stay at the cabin in exchange for
some handyman type duties. The drifter
tries to help him work on the book and Antonio is perturbed when he suggests,
“You should tell OUR story!” Eventually,
the dude goes nuts and holds Banderas and his realtor/girlfriend (Piper Perabo)
hostage in the cabin.
Black
Butterfly features less movie in it than most movies I’ve seen in a long
time. If it was packed in a shipping
facility, it would be 95% Styrofoam peanuts.
In fact, watching a box full of Styrofoam peanuts might be preferable to
this stupefying, dawdling mess. Heck,
even the 5% of actual movie you do get is pretty crappy.
No
one acts like a real human being, which is the big problem. Who would allow a total stranger (and a
creepy one at that) that already displays a flair for having a hot temper to
stay with you? Even when he starts
brandishing a shotgun, Banderas just kind of goes with it. I mean, you find out the reason EVENTUALLY,
but when you do, it’s just plain contrived.
Not to mention stupid.
You
know, for a while I thought Black Butterfly was going for one of those Fight
Club endings. That was giving it too
much credit though as the movie isn’t nearly that clever. Wait till you see the ending they DID come up
with. Just when you think it
can’t get any worse along comes the final twist that’s so infuriating, you’ll
want to make like Rhys-Meyers and hold the writer of the film at gunpoint.
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