Review: "Of Time and the City"

But then Davies begins to speak.
I've never been a big fan of narration, but I can see and understand what Davies was going for here, and it could have worked. But his deep rich voice reciting poems over countless Liverpool images quickly begins to sound like a parody of a pretentious art house film.
This is the kind of movie that causes people to make fun of art house films. Davies alternates between moments of sublime beauty to moments of stifling self-importance. When he steps back and lets the images and music work in tandem and speak for themselves, Of Time and the City becomes something thoroughly mesmerizing, but his narration is often grating and self-parodic.

Of course, to give credit where credit is due, some of it is quite beautiful. But these moments are quickly swallowed up in what ends up being one giant ego-centric mess. I wanted to like it, I really and truly wanted to like it, but by the time it was over I was just exasperated with it. During its more lyrical passages I would finally find myself sinking into its shimmering black and white embrace, before being rudely jerked out again by Davies' incessant narration.

Aesthetically, yes, Of Time and the City is quite appealing. But it also thinks way too highly of itself. It's a pompous, ostentatious mishmash of artful lyricism and egotistical self-aggrandizement. Somebody has to be the one to stand up and say the emperor has no clothes.
GRADE: ★★ (out of four)
OF TIME AND THE CITY: Directed by Terence Davies; Not Rated
Comments
Again, excellent review.
So I guess I was stimulated by parts of the film, but never emotionally connected; always distant.