At Eternity’s Gate frustratingly squanders a committed performance by Willem Dafoe underneath an unbearably unfocused and ambling narrative and nauseating direction.
The film hops around from moment to moment with little sense of cohesion or urgency (sometimes quite literally with a plethora of elongated sequences featuring Van Gogh prancing through fields). When Dafoe’s Van Gogh is allowed to profess his internal monologues about his seemingly “higher” purpose in art and his mental anguish, the film soars, and we see glimpses…