A drug dealer is murdered in a drug deal because of the betrayal of his best friend. His inner self then takes a look at all the events which has happened in his life and will happen in the near future.
"I hated that" will be a common refrain among people leaving showings of Enter the Void. Don't be surprised, though, if you find yourself still thinking about the movie the next day.
If you yourself are stoked for a lurid, oversexed, stupid-with-Freud Midnight Movie extravaganza -- a trip to El Topo via Mulholland Drive -- there are worse ways to spend 2 1/2 hours.
Broken down to its base elements, it's a detective-ghost story, not unlike M. Night Shyamalan's The Sixth Sense (1999), albeit one driven by some dazzling filmmaking bravado.
[It's] certainly an immersive experience that's decidedly difficult to shake. The problem is that it's also the most excruciating sit in recent cinematic memory.
As chowderheaded as some of its underlying pretensions are, the movie's still an astonishing work of cinema, alternately brilliant and disgusting, naïve and inspired, tedious and sublime.
In visual terms, it's a whiz-bang marvel of swooping and soaring camera work and psychedelic imagery, lit by the gaudy fluorescence of Tokyo's seamier nightclubs.
