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The frivolity of the film's unexpressed political earnestness-Bonello's unwillingness to give voice to his or his characters' ideas-is matched by the emptiness of its aesthetic.
The film is a carefully constructed hall of mirrors within which Bonello shows us the horror of anger without empathy, and the state as the most terrifying player of all. It is a pitch black allegory for our time.
Testing the viewer's position on who or what the victims are here is partly what makes Nocturama such a horribly exhilarating and rewarding piece of cinema.
When the ruthless, faceless power of the state finally asserts itself, what is meant to be a shocking climax merits little more than a nod and a shrug.
Exquisite cinema. A sly siren, Nocturama is narcotic phase, slow-burn haze, a shifty, shifting thriller inspecting terrorism and youth. A bombing plot, a dance of death... Another distracted, neglected, maligned generation.
You may not think that a movie that asks you to understand terrorists is for you, but if you give Bonello 130 minutes of your time, he'll make you a believer.
Much like Bonello's previous film, "Yves Saint Laurent," "Nocturama" revels in pure experience. But the sum total of its gliding abstractions is a mite brainless.