Dead Babies

'Dead Babies' is perhaps of the shallowest of Martin Amis's novels: a vicious satirical attack on the smart set in 1970s London: wealthy, fashionable, drug-addled, and paranoid, it follows them through a desperate and debauched weekend. The book's tone is flippant, with the strong implication that the characters don't actually deserve any treatment more reverent; while the novel justifies its own existence through the outrageous comedy of its hyperbolic prose. But hyperbolic prose, and drug-fuelled hysteria, are two things hard to capture in film (think Terry Gilliam's disastrous adaptation of 'Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, for example). In his film of 'Dead Babies', director William Marsh uses the imagery of the modern video game, or pop video (something by the Progidy, perhaps, although this idea is maybe brought to mind merely by the presence of a grotesque character called Keith). This technique is less anachronistic than it might seem, as the setting is also updated to the present day, but unfortunately it's also familiar, and dull, in a way that the book's original prose never was: a collection of gross-out images set to techno. In places, flashes of Amis's humour shine through, but elsewhere the film seems amateurish. Amis's novels have always had a self-awareness that allows their author to get away with excesses that would otherwise be inexcusable; but this movie lacks the faint hint of self-mockery that help redeem the book. Finally, I haven't read the book for ages, but unless my memory is playing tricks on me, the ending was somewhat different the one we get in the film, which is also excessive, but futilely stupid in a way that the original writing never was.

I remain a big fan of Martin Amis, and I suspect that some (but not all) of his other books might potentially make more successful films than this one. But the path to adaptation is strewn with peril. In the case of 'Dead Babies', something is definitely lost in translation.

I am a great fan of Martin Amis, on whose book this film is based. Unfortunately the director has been unable to translate the book to the screen. The novel is thoroughly post modern and highly artificial in its wildly overblown characters and the disintegration of traditional plot line and character development. It is an hilarious examination of human greed, excess and emptiness by one of the most moral of contemporary British writers. The director of the film has completely missed the point of the novel. In his hands, the film screams along at breakneck speed, indulging in every known trick shot and 'odd' camera angle possible. It is like Ken Russel on acid, and suffers from that older director's self indulgence cranked up to a hundred. Not even the (brief) glimpse of gorgeous actor Christian Solimeno's penis was enough to save this wretched film for me. Abysmal!

Suffice to say that -- despite the odd ludicrous panegyric of your posted comment regarding "Dead Babies," one can only conclude that your animosity directed towards this little gem of a film is most likely due to your resemblance of one of the film's two utterly pathetic characters. "Giles"? Or are you more like "Keith"?

It's ironic to me the energy it must have taken to not only seek it out here, but its director's credits, as well as your clearly passionate opinions and suggestions -- "Avoid [it] like the plague," for a film you so revile.

I rented this movie from a Japanese video store. Because of my limited Kanji-reading skills, I took a chance because of the English cast (and, to a lesser-extent, the unusual title). Namely, Paul Bettany, who was brought to my attention to his unforgettable performance in "Gangster #1".

I played it for various English guests in an English-owned and operated youth hostel I manage in Los Angeles. With absolutely no idea what we had in store for us, we were thoroughly pleased, enjoying it from beginning to end. It successfully balanced unforgettable moments of both hilarity and horror, never an easy task and, more often than not, rarely achieved. More so, when its adapted from a popular novel.

So, what do you consider worthy? "Pulp Fiction"? Ha! Maybe something from Merchant Ivory? Do they even make films anymore? Probably not, what with the BFI producing such "rubbish" like "Dead Babies" which received by your fellow countryman (and women) well-deserved comparisons to stellar films such as "Trainspotting" and "Requiem For A Dream".

Instead of attacking everyone from the director to the British Film Industry (Regain its status?!? Lighten up, would ya?)why don't you advise what NOT to avoid. But what can one expect from someone who TRIES, and fails, to present himself as above all others by over-using his thesaurus using such "odious tosh" as "panegyric" and French phrases as "soi distant"! Who talks like this?

A terrible storyline (Amis at his worst), pointless and self-conscious 'decadence', obvious shock tactics and patchy acting make this film (rather like "Rancid Aluminium") embody everything that went wrong with the much-vaunted British film revival. The humour is, at best, limp, and the pretentiousness of the whole set-up (including some kind of "internet terrorist group" - ooh, how contemporary) really begins to grate.

Final summary - a half-baked attempt to be 'edgy' that does no-one any favours. Still, it's always a pleasure to see Katy Carmichael on screen...

Friends and I picked this up from the rental place because of the name, and Paul Bettany. It was just woeful. Shallow, terrible plot/character development, nothing whatsoever to encourage watching it. I thought it was trying the whole time to be edgy and Trainspotting-esquire, but it failed on the basic level of having no content worthy of giving up two hours of time. The characters were distasteful, but not in the way intended (ie. not because of clever writing, more because they were so badly written as to be insulting) We only got through it thanks to a full bottle of Smirnoff and Paul Bettany in a blue pinstripe suit. Just terrible.