Edgar Wright is usually liked by the audience. It doesn't load, it doesn't choke, it's humorous, however, except for 'Cool Hop' and 'Shaun the Zombie', I don't remember anything from him, and that's because of that very couple of English comedians from the cool TV series Spaced.
And after watching 'Soho', I thought that Wright's name would not have been in the credits, hardly anyone would have undertaken to study him so closely, savor and deeply evaluate him. Because for all its high-quality production, the film, as for me, is rather secondary, clichéd, predictable, and 1.5 times longer than it could be.
I am surprised that the viewers, who react sharply to such an already meme concept as 'newsletter', have not yet brought their offended feelings to the comments. After all, the film, in fact, is about the frightening realities in which a huge number of young women lived, and still live, and how they cope with it all. This idea of the director can not but support. He very intelligibly showed how ordinary girls turn into an object of exploitation and are completely destroyed personally. True, as usual, the accusatory finger was poked at the carriers of the X chromosome, and not at the system in which we all exist. Which, of course, does not remove personal responsibility from specific villains and does not cancel the division within the system itself.
But even if I didn't roll out claims to the script regarding political economy, then I was just bored: the heroine very often, for a long time and in some repetitive situations freaks out and suffers, suffers and freaks out, and the neighbors are just stereotyped bitches from every first youth melodrama, and for some inexplicable reason, the guy faithfully follows the heroine leaving the coils and looks into her eyes with a quivering puppy, also like in some kind of series for teenagers. This entourage, to be honest, greatly reduced the heat and drama, and even intrigue. By the middle of the picture, all these ghosts began to tire, and the director did not explain in any way why an ordinary girl, faced with all this devilry, would not turn to psychiatrists or go home to her granny. After the first attack, I would have trembled and would have gone to my parents' house.
What I praise: the denouement is not bad, the main actress is very touching, even Anya Taylor-Joy is not so painful in her game, sorry) I even liked her here - also the merit of the director, of course. I can't comment on the nuances of the music and fashion of the 60s - I don't understand. In general - not a revelation, not to say that it captured much, but left a good impression. I urge you not to expect a masterpiece.