Do It Again (Patton-Spruill, 2010)
Boston Globe music journalist Geoff Edgers states in his brief and lovable documentary Do It Again, “Pieces of the Kinks are still floating around out there, but we need the real thing.”
Boston Globe music journalist Geoff Edgers states in his brief and lovable documentary Do It Again, “Pieces of the Kinks are still floating around out there, but we need the real thing.”
Belle de jour is often described as a film about a middle-class housewife (Deneuve) who voluntarily becomes a prostitute, but that’s only true on a superficial level.
A few years ago I wrote in a review that in an age of fatwahs and culture wars, I was reluctant to the point of refusal to use the word “immoral” when describing a film. I tend to shy away from the word “offensive” for opposite but corollary reasons.
In soccer (or football, as the non-American world stubbornly persists in calling it), there is a rule that states that an offensive player must have at least one defensive player between him and the goal (not including the goalie) when a pass is made. If an individual advances too far, too quickly, he is called offside, and play is momentarily suspended.
If I had watched Gun Crazy (a.k.a. Deadly is the Female) a year ago...well, okay, I would not have watched it a year ago, but if I had, I doubt I would have gotten past the first ten minutes.
I'm not sure if I am the first or only person to approach Homemade Hillbilly Jam as an auteur piece, but given the success of Rick Minnich's later film, Forgetting Dad, I don't think I'll be the last.
If George Falconer (Colin Firth) lacks some of the more obvious self-loathing qualities that normally mark period, gay protagonists, the film he occupies still has a chaste, skittish quality about it that feels a little dated in the post-Brokeback world
The road movie is a staple of Western film, but rarely does one begin by destroying the hero’s means of transportation.
I'll give Peter Jackson this. He is the type of director who, when he sees a brick wall coming at him at 90 miles an hour, is not afraid to hit the accelerator.
I walk around suppressing the urge to burst into song about 80% of the time.