The plot of Adore had the potential to be either a guilty pleasure or a scathing, psychological commentary. With a clueless director at the hem, Adore instead confusingly took the worst parts of each and melded them together: poorly plotted sleaze, incomprehensible monotonous scenes, and longing, soulful glances. While The Great Gatsby’s non-cohesion was inoffensive and simply puzzling, Adore‘s seeming lack of desire to even attempt to create a believable world was irritating and offensive.
First, while the plot of the film had an innate creepiness to it, that wasn’t a problem. The problem was that none of it was explained or contextualized. Second, none of the characters experienced a character arc — nor did they realize the consequences or implications of their actions except for a few cursory tears they shed. Frankly, I would rather they either did this or go in the complete opposite direction and embrace the unconventional relationships in a seedy way. Third, the dialogue was horrendous – I can count on one hand the conversations that actually sounded like they could have occurred in real life. Fourth, the acting did very little to elevate the crappy material, with the actors laughably injecting as much pouty-seriousness into their extremely thin roles, which simply highlighted the futility of the entire endeavour.
Adore is a disturbing yet ultimately shallow film that is burdened by trying to be so many things it is not. It tries to be meaningful, artsy and the perfect acting vehicle. Instead, it feels more like poorly written chick-lit with pointless directing and boring, confused acting. It is the worst film of the year.