What Hopkins does succeed at with this effort as writer and director is giving us a sense that we know absolutely no one in the film. However, perhaps therein lies the problem. His movie has a lot of ambition and his intentions were obviously complex and drawn from very deep within, but it's so impersonal. There are no characters. We never know who anyone is, thus there is no investment on our part.
It could be about a screenwriter intermingle with his own characters. Is it? Maybe. By that I don't mean that Slipstream is ambiguous; I mean that there is no telling. Hopkins's film is an experiment. On the face of it, one could make the case that it is about a would-be screenwriter, who at the very moment of his meeting with fate, realizes that life is hit and miss, and/or success is blind chance, as he is hurled into a "slipstream" of collisions between points in time, dreams, thoughts, and reality. Nevertheless, it is so unremittingly cerebral that it leaves no room for any hint of emotion, even to the tiny, quite rudimentary extent of allowing us a connection with its characters.
I didn't think the nippy and flamboyant school of shaky, machine-gun-speed camera-work and editing disengaged me, but reflecting upon the film I am beginning to realize that it had a lot to do with it. There are so many movies of the past decade in which the cuts or camera movement have sound effects as well as other atmosphere-deteriorating technical doodads. I suppose in this case it was justified in that its purpose was to compose the impressionistic responsiveness of dreams. However, I knew barely anything about Slipstream when watching it, and I came out the same way. And I just do not care, because Hopkins made no effort to make us care. There are interactive movies, and there are movies that sit in a rocking chair and knit, unaware of your presence. Slipstream is the latter.
It could be about a screenwriter intermingle with his own characters. Is it? Maybe. By that I don't mean that Slipstream is ambiguous; I mean that there is no telling. Hopkins's film is an experiment. On the face of it, one could make the case that it is about a would-be screenwriter, who at the very moment of his meeting with fate, realizes that life is hit and miss, and/or success is blind chance, as he is hurled into a "slipstream" of collisions between points in time, dreams, thoughts, and reality. Nevertheless, it is so unremittingly cerebral that it leaves no room for any hint of emotion, even to the tiny, quite rudimentary extent of allowing us a connection with its characters.
I didn't think the nippy and flamboyant school of shaky, machine-gun-speed camera-work and editing disengaged me, but reflecting upon the film I am beginning to realize that it had a lot to do with it. There are so many movies of the past decade in which the cuts or camera movement have sound effects as well as other atmosphere-deteriorating technical doodads. I suppose in this case it was justified in that its purpose was to compose the impressionistic responsiveness of dreams. However, I knew barely anything about Slipstream when watching it, and I came out the same way. And I just do not care, because Hopkins made no effort to make us care. There are interactive movies, and there are movies that sit in a rocking chair and knit, unaware of your presence. Slipstream is the latter.