Julian Schnabel (beak, in German) sickens us with slow paced auto-indulgence, as if he can't decide whether he wants the audience to love Van Gogh or find him as insufferable as the residents of Arles do. He substitutes sporadic impulsivity in place of any semblance of a fluid story. The intentionally jerky camera work looks to have been done by a drunken toddler with a hand held device lacking a steadicam gimbal stabilizer, giving one nausea akin to sea-sickness, in what may have been intended to highlight a tired and clumsy notion of what schizophrenia must feel like. Not even Willem Dafoe's excellent turn could save this artless, tedious lack of creativity. A perfect example of the pervading trendy weirdness of people liking inept art with intoxicated fervor.

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