So Italian, as with every film by Paolo Sorrentino. The story compresses the last six months of a presidency into three actions, but it is the loneliness of old age that is the subject with the existential question, “who owns our days?” Beautifully acted and shot in a wide-screen format that surrounds every figure with the air of Rome.
A gorgeous Gothic bromance, better viewed on a larger screen than our home TV. We know the story but have to admire its presentation, along with the appearance of Charles Dance, Christoph Waltz and the rest of the finely costumed cast. Telling the story twice dilutes the drama in favor of sheer spectacle.
A family’s repressed feelings, anger issues and bad legal choices following the death of their son are resolved by therapy and play-acting. The plot, as presented, is manipulative and schmaltzy, more community theater than Sentimental Value.
Four days, four events, shows how rich the cultural life can be in our small city.
Friday we attended a preview of Marty Supreme, sponsored by the Film Society at the Riviera Theater, with co-star Gwyneth Paltrow interviewed afterward. (The movie was awful.)
Saturday the Museum of Art hosted an interview with the premier Monet scholar Paul Tucker, pegged to its show of Impressionist art from Dallas and its own collection. (This was entertaining and enthralling.)
Sunday was a country music concert at the Arlington, sponsored by UCSB’s Arts & Lectures series, headlined by Molly Tuttle with opening acts by Meels and Kaitlin Butts. (Disappointing.)
Monday we attended the digital presentation of the National Theatre’s camp production of The Importance of Being Earnest at the New Vic Theater. (Really terrible.)
We happen to be major supporters of all four presenting organizations, for which we are proud. It’s only too bad that for three of these events I would rather have been watching football.
Kelly Reichardt’s latest addition to the slow cinema genre starts off well in a small Massachusetts city, circa 1970, with the totally pleasant Josh O’Connor’s museum heist, but then he and the film have nowhere to go and Reichardt goes there.
Aided by a comb-over, Ethan Hawke transforms to a lost-soul, lost-cause Lorenz Hart lounging in Sardi’s bar on the night that Oklahoma! opens (without him). Bobby Cannavale, Patrick Kennedy, Margaret Qualley and the uniquitous Andrew Scott are excellent foils for essentially a monologue by Hawke/Hart that never goes away. At first it is a bit annoying; eventually you are in awe of director Richard Linklater’s audacity and accomplishment.
A propulsive story of domestic revolution that is eerily prescient in Trump’s America. Sean Penn, Benicio Del Toro, Teyana Taylor and Chase Infiniti (as the young Willa) are beyond superb and the action scenes and cast of thousands are directed seamlessly. The hole in the middle, though, is Leonardo DiCaprio, never my favorite actor. We don’t care for his goofball character and ultimately wonder why all the fuss is being made over him. The plot, with its strong echoes of realism, goes off the rails near the end, but by that time we have enjoyed quite a ride.
Like looking at a favorite old scrapbook. No problems were introduced without quickly apparent solutions that enabled one and all to live happily ever after (at least until further collapse of the British Empire).
A clunky movie. Denzel Washington was neither believable nor interesting as a record company executive (think Berry Gordy), and we had to watch him the entire movie. A rare misfire by Spike Lee, based on a Kurosawa film that wasn’t that great to begin with.
A faithful re-creation for the screen of Richard Osman’s charming novel, unfortunately without its charm. Too much plot, too little air for the characters to breathe, and too recognizable actors in the roles, with Pierce Brosnan especially out of place.
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