Console best movie i've ever seen.

Rio Hayward All of these films share one commonality, that being a kind of emotional center that humanizes a cast of monsters.

Portia Hilton Blistering performances.

Zandra The movie turns out to be a little better than the average. Starting from a romantic formula often seen in the cinema, it ends in the most predictable (and somewhat bland) way.

bettycjung 4/7/18. Somewhat disappointing. I read that because of the explicit scenes of sex and violence, it was released two years after it was made in 1970, and then to mixed reviews. Over time it supposedly reached cult status, simply because this was Mick Jagger's first acting role. I don't think he was acting, he was just being himself. So, now 48 years later, even through nostalgic lens, it isn't artsy fartsy enough to be considered art house to me. The documentary short included on the DVD was an interesting watch as people involved with the filmed talked about the movie.

lasttimeisaw Wringing the ethos out of the vestige of beatnik and swinging 60s, Donald Cammell and Nicolas Roeg's hallucinogenic cult film PERFORMANCE (which marks both filmmakers' directorial feature debut), was made in 1968 but mothballed by the studio for two years due to its obscene sexual contents and explicit violence. For a new audience, it is fairly natural to get dumbfounded by the film's frenetic editing of montages from the very start, amalgamating graphic sex sequences between our protagonist Chas (Fox) and his casual bed-mate Dana (Sidney) with manifold clumps of irrelevant scenes which later rig up a flimsy narrative, it is a sharp, disorientating gambit, but seems too divisive by half (it is a post-production last resort to mitigate the smutty images at the expense of its own impetus and coherence as a dauntless cause célèbre by this reviewer's lights). Chaz is an aggro-prone tearaway working for the gang of Harry Flowers (a corn-fed Johnny Shannon), but before long he needs to lie low after rubbing out an attacker of bad blood out of self-defense, since Harry wants him vanish as well. So he hangs his hat in the basement of a decrepit residence owned by a former rock star Turner (Mick Jagger's acting debut), who has lost his demon in what he does and secludes himself from the outside world, co-habits with his lover Pherber (the late Pallenberg, a là Warhol's Factory Girl) and a young French girl Lucy (a tomboyish Breton), the equilibrium of their boho ménage-à-trois will dutifully be ruffled (not exactly challenged as we tend to surmise judging by its cover) by Chaz, an unbidden outsider under the pseudonym of Johnny Dean.The premise sounds promising for making a heavy weather of the underlying discrepancy/assimilation between two male ids: Chaz's macho/gangsta make-up and Turner's androgynous and lackadaisical stagnation, but in reality, however visually psychedelic the film looks (Dutch angles, a distorted God's viewpoint shot, mesmeric mirror images, that creepy identity-shifting moment in the end, just to name a few), the fundamentals are only scratched skin- deep, often to one's aggravation, instead, it evolves into a dashing and dazing shindig of excesses (nudity rather than sex) and a madcap platform for Turner/Jagger's superstar glamour (who performs the theme song MEMO FROM TURNER in the MTV style, avant la lettre). Notorious for its under-the-influence verité carried out during the filmmaking (there is literal acid involved in the plot where Chaz and co. terrorizing a hapless chauffeur), PERFORMANCE ultimately comes off as a short-range stunner and an experimental novelty which cannot elevate its own perversity and subversion into something significantly revolutionary and groundbreaking, although James Fox is arguably in his most absorbing and ambiguously sensual form here. At odds with the state of those participated, PERFORMANCE is more stultifying than stupefying from the POV of a first-time viewer in the 21st century, that ship has long sailed, save for its skirling soundtrack, operatively transmitting those signs of bygone times into one's nostalgic delirium.

InjunNose "Performance" gets off to a very strong start, locking the viewer's eyes to the screen as it depicts the brutish, unsavory life of Chas (James Fox), an enforcer for an eccentric London crime boss (Johnny Shannon). Chas is reliable as a hard man--a little too reliable, in fact--and after making trouble for his employer he scrambles for a place to hide out. So ends the first half of the film, and it couldn't be better; Donald Cammell and Nicolas Roeg create a dark, desperate atmosphere with lots of tight shots and off-kilter dialogue that somehow convinces despite its artificiality. The second half of the film is, to be honest, a complete mess. Chas finds refuge in the crumbling home of Turner (Mick Jagger), a former pop star turned recluse, and it is here that "Performance" becomes not Jagger's film (visually he's great, but he doesn't have much presence as an actor), as advertised, but Anita Pallenberg's. She's drug-addled, shrill and NEVER stops talking--and none of it makes the least sense. This section of the film, with its references to Borges and Burroughs and the supposedly flexible nature of reality and identity, has not aged well. Nevertheless, Jagger does shine while snarling his solo track 'Memo from Turner' (with bottleneck guitar backing from Ry Cooder), and "Performance" redeems itself as Chas's pursuers catch up to him and his world violently collides with Turner's. Will you wonder what actually happened at the end of the movie? Yes, but the emotional impact of the closing scene renders any logical explanation unnecessary. Weak as its second half is, this film has more than enough going for it to qualify as a cinematic masterpiece.

kenjha Fox is a London gangster who runs afoul of his mates and must hide out in the home of reclusive musician Jagger and his groupies. The film jumps into the story (there's minimal plot) without any exposition, leading to confusion, and the rapid cutting doesn't help matters. Once Fox reaches Jagger's place, the pace slows down but little of interest happens to hold one's interest. With his effeminate looks, Jagger is an intriguing screen presence, but is given little to do other than look androgynous. Pallenberg, quite a beauty, plays a drugged out groupie. This is an exercise in indulgence for debuting directors Cammell (whose career went nowhere) and Roeg (who went on to make some notable films).