I just read Emily Asher-Perrin’s review on Tor.com of a film I can’t wait for, Jim Jarmusch’s Only Lovers Left Alive, with Tilda Swinton.
I have to say, I’ve been hooked on Swinton ever since seeing her in Lynn Hershman-Leeson’s Teknolust, one of my favorite films of that year (2002-2003)
I love this movie, as well as just about everything else she’s done (except maybe Young Adam, but partly because I just couldn’t get past Ewan McGregor’s dick shot, and that was maybe because I had just seen Chloe Sevigny’s gums wrapped around Vince Gallo’s bloated plums in Brown Bunny. So, that. Lots of schlongs in the noughties, not sure why, and as a film writer, I pretty much saw them all). So, Burn After Reading, We Need to Talk about Kevin, Moonrise Kingdom, Hotel Budapest and now Only Lovers Left Alive. Only lovers. Jim Jarmusch and Tilda Swinton. The vibe reminds me of The Hunger (1983), which we almost never remember was directed by the late great Tony Scott.