Domino: Critic Reviews

It's the tale of a real person in only the most abstract, opportunistic way, since what Scott has done is to pin the scandal label of 'true story' onto his most fractiously vapid action film since Beverly Hills Cop II.

Tony Scott's tongue-in-check interpolation of the life and times of a privileged brat turned bounty hunter has no social value outside of a feverish will to entertain.

You can't accuse this film of bogging down in cheap psychology, yet you come out dissatisfied and without a clue about what made this person tick.

It's like a ferret on crystal meth that belatedly discovers ecstasy, and it's a tiresome trip either way.

[Director Tony Scott's] pornographic lust for bloodletting, gunplay, and out-of-control camerawork far exceeds his abilities to tell a story.

Abusively moronic enough to inspire something like pity.

It airbrushes and glorifies the short, angry life of its subject in ways that are practically indecent.

The problem with Scott's film and Keira Knightley's performance as the bounty hunter is its bored delirium, a daze of scattershot ennui that prioritizes hipster carnage and flashy cuts over intelligible storytelling.

The movie plays like the work of a self-impressed film student. It's ripe with strident stylistic flourishes, harsh atmospheric cinematography and superficial roles that allow cast members to scream their heads off. Either that, or get them blown off.

Did I admire Domino? In a sneaky way, yes. It's fractured and maddening, but it's alive.

[Director Tony] Scott and screenwriter Richard Kelly turn Domino's life upside down, mixing tiny parts fact with heaping, heaving sums of fiction. But with a real-life story like Domino's, why all the fantasy?

Domino is less a movie than a hyperkinetic slide show -- presented during a nuclear attack.

Here is a movie so bad it's ... no, actually it's still bad.

Domino, director Tony Scott's hyperactive, roll-in-the-mud, blow-stuff-up and jiggle the cameras every which way extravaganza, is one of the most awesomely awful films ever made.

The only defense for Domino, the first-ever movie in a blender, is that director Tony Scott is pioneering a new form of cinema, in which the audience can never focus on a single object for more than a half second.

Domino is far from dull. But it doesn't convince.

Domino is amusingly decadent for a while but eventually wears you out. Two eyeballs are not enough to see it with.

It's a goofy and bloody and assaultive all-star extravaganza and an absurd burlesque of the life of movie-star daughter/model-turned-bounty hunter Domino Harvey.

Buried deep within the psychedelic sludge that is Domino, there may be a story about a model turned bounty hunter. Good luck trying to find it.

Scott means for his entertainment package to be hip, hysterical fun. But his stylistic embellishments and indiscriminate appetite for sensation crowds his title character right out of the film.

The picture is an exercise in exploitation joi de vivre, and your enjoyment of it will depend on your tolerance for shameless, reckless, unredemptive violence with relatively little artistic or spiritual value.

Manages the feat of literally spelling things out and being utterly incoherent.

I'm sure the story of bounty-hunter Domino Harvey would make for compelling cinema if only Tony Scott had decided to film it without the masturbatory excesses that are evident in Domino.

Crass yet colorful exploitation of the sad, strange life of an English beauty-turned-bounty hunter.

She deserved better.