The tragedy of Turing’s life—the arrest, the court case, the chemical castration, the inevitable suicide, is completely glossed over by an underwhelming epilogue—a text informing us of his posthumous royal pardon by Queen Elizabeth II in 2013 (sorry girl, a minute too late and a dollar short).
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The jagged close-up shots have an amateur-pornish quality. The absence of soundtrack backing and the shaky cinematography denote a stylized sort of grittiness. And it works—he is still on his lunch break at the factory after all. They don’t use a condom, but I’m not their moms.
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