a review of 巴比伦

six years ago, damien chazelle tasted glory for what would eventually be only a few seconds. he is not any less of a young master at this film shit, but it seems he doesn't know what to do with the feeling of his highest of highs turning to a catastrophic fuckup on live tv. does he keep climbing or retreat quietly? something something sisyphus.  babylon is a love letter to cinema, yes, but also a heroic, if futile, rally against the business of movies. punctuated by a beautiful eulogy delivered by jean smart, and manically yelled out by an ending montage-- cinema has been dying for a hundred years, and it will continue dying for a hundred more.