It’s inevitable that people will disagree about movies, especially ones that tackle niche subjects. As someone who has written about bodybuilding literature for The Paris Review and reviewed muscle movies like “The Iron Claw” that attempt to capture the essence of strength sports, I approached Love Lies Bleeding with both curiosity and skepticism.
Like many A24 productions, Love Lies Bleeding is visually striking and comes with instant art-house credibility. But beneath its stylish veneer lies a film as insubstantial as the cotton-candy muscles sported by novice steroid users enjoying their first round of water retention. It’s the cinematic equivalent of a beautifully plated dish that leaves you hungry an hour later.
Read Full Article »