High-Rise Review - AVClub

AVClub: High-Rise, a darkly funny adaptation by cult English director Ben Wheatley (Kill List, A Field In England) of the J.G. Ballard novel of the same title, preserves the book’s ’70s setting, steeping its vision of a toppling society in retro decadence: brutalist apartments carpeted in ankle-high, cream-colored shag; flight attendants in red uniforms dancing in a pill-induced dream; women in tunic dresses slumping into sectional sofas or against walls of ribbed concrete, drinks in hand. An orchestral arrangement of ABBA’s “SOS” swells on the soundtrack as a man is thrown out of a costume party and into a futuristic elevator with mirrored walls. A super-modern apartment building on the outskirts of London, shaped like a Jenga tower frozen in its first moment of collapse, forms an ecosystem of excess, consumption, and delirium. The sunlight that cuts through its slit windows is the color of champagne.

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