watched: wanted.  what bekmambetov has, other than an eye for the theatrically explosive, is a sculptor’s understanding of materials and our relationships to them.  characters push their bodies through glass, heal themselves in warm pools of a wax-like material, and claw their way through a room of taut wool/cotton strings (undoing joseph beuys via sarah sze).  slabs of meat swing around them, cars become serpentine extensions of their own bodies, and they bend, lean, and fall across, over, around, and through things that you or i would try our damnedest to never fall across, over, around, and, particularly, through.  bekmambetov’s world is filled with the casual interestingness of raw materials, against which his humans are formed.