Wild Tales – written and directed by Damiàn Szifron. Black Comedy. 122 minutes Color 2015.
★★★★★
The Story: Six tales of vengeance.
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Wild Tales is an anthology of the most sumptuous violence one has ever witnessed this side of Catastrophe. But actually it’s funny.
It’s funny because it is a black satire in the form of six screwball comedies on vengeance in human affairs.
You have never seen such a record of complete all-out vendettas. In this film, though, revenge is not a dish served cold. It is bubbling hot. It steams and sizzles and boils over.
The first story is …no, I won’t tell you. It takes place in an airplane among a load of unwitting voyagers.
The second story is …no, I won’t tell you. It takes place in a roadside joint where the man you love to hate turns up for chow.
The third story is … no, I won’t tell you. But it takes place on the superhighway of road rage.
The fourth story is … no, I won’t tell you. But it will satisfy every fury you ever felt over a parking ticket.
The fifth story is …. no, I won’t tell you. But it glees you with comeuppance for every lawyer who ever fleeced you.
The sixth story is … no, I won’t tell you. But it quite restores reality to the rites of the wedding day.
I say no more. I am mum.
I do have to say that these pieces are perfectly cast and played, and the director who forged them deserves olés all around.
If you like this film, good. Tell someone. Tell every terrorist you know. It may laugh them out of it.
If you don’t like it, it’s not because I said you should go. You didn’t ask me, and if you had, I’d once more have said, “No, I won’t tell you.”