"Trance" is a scenic journey to crazytown that smells of red herring

The only thing that irks me more than a balls-out bad movie is an engaging movie that takes you on a scenic journey to crazytown. "Trance," unfortunately, is the latter. Boyle was making this movie the same time he was working on the opening of the London Olympics. The cracks most definitely show.

The movie tells the story of Simon, an art auctioneer (James McAvoy) that botches an art heist and runs afoul of a gang. He's forgotten where he put the stolen painting and decides to enlist a hypnotherapist (Rosario Dawson) to recover the lost memory.

The whole "Hypnotherapist? Sounds legit" deal got on my nerves, but I suspended my disbelief and rolled with it, and was rewarded for most of the movie. The rest of the movie left me walking out of the theater wondering "What the serious fark did I just see?"

What started out as this taut, modern noir, ran head-long into a whole school of red herring, a lot of "but wait" moments and the lamest excuse for frontal nudity I've ever heard of in my life.

The gang leader (Vincent Cassel) started out perfectly plausible, and somehow forgot he was a gang leader somewhere in the middle of the movie. His gang started out badass and got less gangy throughout the movie. I got romped through dream fields and possibly fake reality to a really crazy crazy place that pissed me off. If you see the movie, trust me, the big reveal at the end isn't just shocking, it's a "no you didn't just have me tripping dream balls to this cracked-out ending" moment.

Matinee it if you're one of the three other people that isn't going to "42" this weekend. Otherwise, stream it. You will want to discuss the particularly wild bits with friends.

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