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.
The average person, even if he or she is an avid cinephile, really sees a very small percentage of the films released every year.
These films reflect my favorite experiences of the year in cinema. I also think they are very good.
I walk around suppressing the urge to burst into song about 80% of the time.
I've been putting off writing about Precious: Based on the Novel Push by Sapphire, mostly, I suppose because I'm having a hard time describing and justifying my strong antipathy, first to the novel Push on which the film is based and now to the film itself. Perhaps I fear that if I can't justify it, others will assume justifications for me
It is to the credit of Me and Orson Welles that it managed to make me nostalgic for those days while reminding me why I grew to move on from them. It is the best film I've seen about the theater life (and make no mistake, it is about the theater and not the film community). Its pleasures and its insights into human relations are not depended on an historic interest in Welles or the Mercury Theater, although it works on that level, too, I suppose.
I would say then that one of the values of "I Am an American" and its attendant documentary is to show black and white together espousing and celebrating patriotism through song and honoring the influences in their lives who have helped to instill that patriotism in them. In fact, I will say it.
There is something about the existential angst of Larry Gopnik (Michael Stuhlbarg) that--I don't know--might have felt at home in an anthology with John Cheever's "Death of Justina" or on a double-bill with whatever film about the silence of God that Ingmar Bergman had just released in 1963.
