Well, it seems that, when it comes to appalling subsidised cinema, there are certain qualifications that help. Being in black-and-white scores a good few points. A really brilliant director might even manage to switch from b/w for the tragic bits into glorious colour for the redemptive, ecstatic bits. Exposure of the dark horror of life on the social housing estates lurking behind the bright facade of Europrosperity seems a sure-fire ticket to success, especially if accompanied by plenty of under-exposed footage of the grim landscapes of the urban edgelands, preferably featuring lots of pylons.
If you ever have a chance to see Funny Ha-ha, do yourself a favor. Don't. It's the perfect example of the tiny, low- to no-budget film with artsy pretentions that fails on every level. It's terrible. Objectively bad. Nothing compelling, at all, about the plot or protagonists, and it's technically unsound too. Bad light, bad audio (one time all the kids are in a van going to a party, and you can't hear the conversation over the fucking rattle of the muffler), bad everything. Of course I saw favorable mentions and decided to put it in the Netflix queueueue. The worse it is, the more some nitwit critic feels the need to give it a good review. It makes him stand out. And all publicity is good publicity. Or so they say.
(h/t Petulant at Shakesville)
