This film does offer a unique view of life, so I think it's worth seeing. But besides the novelty, the film is, well, an inept, pretentious, boring, ugly distortion of life. A wretched exploitation.
What does it exploit? To name a few: (1) the wretchedness of old-age loneliness; (2) our guilt at finding the characters somewhat annoying and ourselves less than full-heartedly sympathetic; (3) the tolerance of art-house audience for inadequate narrative and threadbare characterization.
You would think that out of the extraordinary tedium and pointlessness, something unusual may be found; originality of any kind can nevertheless be the last saving-grace. But none is to be found. The bag of tricks is pretty flat: oh yes, Lee did see his Kieslowski alright. There is a scattering of visual "bookmarks" that re-emerge from time to time, as in "Rouge", which we are supposed to apply as glue to hold the shapeless narrative together: the painted canvas, the shreds of newspapers, the rear mirror view from a motor cycle, etc.
And in case you think Lee is not well-versed in Brunuel, the deliberate voyeurism of the camera placement is supposed to make us roll over and extol the virtue of a new auteur.
But art is not the sum of trickery. Punishing one's audience does not warrant worship. Not all of us are that masochistic. Three loud jeers, Master.
