LEAVING the cinema after David Cronenberg’s dark futurist polemic about the condition of society, a man of about my age commented that he had stayed until the end hoping that something might happen to give it meaning. I could only concur.

Robert Pattinson plays a young New York man wealthy from managing other people’s money. He lives in a stretch limo. Today his whim is to go across town for a haircut. Traffic is in gridlock while the president is in town. Never mind, there are places to go, people to see, deals to make from inside the cocoon of that obscenely-large car.

The film flows like transmission oil down a glacier. It’s heavily verbose, characters spouting views about society’s condition. Occasionally something happens to vary the pace. But its target audience is a bit of a mystery.

Stars? Somehow they seem inappropriate.

At Dendy