Rubber might well be the greatest film ever made, not that I would know because I was slightly drunk when I watched it, and everyone knows that much like where the opposite sex is concerned – a few drinks before a film can make a big difference to your perception. The point is though is that Rubber sounds like the perfect film to watch with some friends whilst you have a few beers – its about a tyre which becomes self aware and goes on a killing spree. This on the face of it sounds bloody fantastic. It certainly is bloody, there are body parts all over the shop, fantastic though, it is not. The problem is this: the tyre rolling around becoming self aware and doing some bloody good murdering makes up only about 20% of the film, the rest of it is filled up with meta nonsense about the nature of spectatorship or something. Rubber is trying desperately hard to be intelligent, that attempting this through the rubric of what I am now going to coin as the “goodyear bloodlust” genre (one feels that the genre has legs for sure, and that by next summer we’ll be swimming in killer tyre movies, potentially with spin of merchandise) is so blindinly ironic is presumably just one of the many points that the film makers are trying to make. I wont elucidate on the other points they are potentially trying to make, suffice to say they are numerous and unresolved – despite some of them being repeated with such vigour that you wonder really if it might have been better as a peice of performance art. I may re-watch this film one day without beer goggles, on that day I might write about how a film changed my whole world view, alternatively, and to return to my earlier metaphore, it might be like waking up after a boozy night out and wondering quite how the person in bed with you got there.


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