There are emotive performances by Hugh Jackman and Anne Hathaway, but the singing is often poor (Crowe is as awkward as a trombone playing in a woodwind orchestra).
The cinematography and editing are a drunken hellscape, shifting disorientedly from slanted to close-ups to tracking shots, and hurl-inducing shaky cams.
The scenes shift at such a fast pace of set expositions like a continuous string of advertisements attempting to sell the film. The neurotic melodrama verges on emotional torment.
5/10
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