Final Cut

Words fail. If shock and disgust is what the directors want, they have it. Jude Law is dead. After the funeral, friends gather at his house where they are filmed watching a video of a home movie, made by Law before he died, using a number of hidden cameras, showing the same friends peeing in the bathroom, snorting coke, sniffing knickers, dicussing sex, abusing a billiard cue and behaving badly with each others' wives.

The dialogue sounds improvised. Every second adjective is four-lettered. Between platitudes and insults, the level of conversation dips below embarrassing.

Dominic Anciano and Ray Burdis, who produced, wrote, directed and acted in this appalling piece of pretentious garbage have succeeded in creating the illusion of a reality that confirms rumours of morality's rape. Truth is seen as humiliating and destructive, which is the dead man's sick joke. Questions raised about The War Zone are raised here, only doubly so. Why? Why show this stuff? Is ugly the new cool?

The self-indulgence, arrogance and conceit is breathtaking. These are friends playing a particularly nasty game of charades and expecting the public to treat it as art.