The British New Wave turns inward and eats itself alive--unwittingly. If the movie is overrated, it's still interesting to watch it collapse upon itself. One decade earlier, the censorship standards would have truncated this film to a point that it would not have made sense. Today it
appears nervous and shallow, a metaphor for the empty values it claims to take to task. Julie Christie is the amoral heroine who drifts into success casually, like she's changing panties--she models, does a bit in films, deserts a husband, deceives a lover, drifts through affairs; it takes about
20 minutes to get that she doesn't "feel complete," and we understand, even if we can't pay our bills. Marilyn Monroe and a multitude of others found out fame wasn't what it was cracked up to be. But where a Marilyn differs from The Darling is that the latter is an empty person and always was.
She's like Madonna with low blood sugar doing an old Lana Turner script---but cool. She may be miserable, but at least the future is rich with tears, rather than poor.
Christie is the main reason to tune in---she's very beautiful and accomplished in a brittle sort of way. Her performance won awards all over the place, but she can't supply emotions the story and character won't let her have. Its a Best Actress in a Vacuum turn, and we defy you to feel a single
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