I still don’t get Anna Fitzpatrick‘s insincere (jokey) disdain for Woody Allen’s decade–old literary fantasy. Owen Wilson’s character imagines magical encounters with 1920s “lost generation” luminaries because he idolizes them along with the era they helped define. There’s nothing wrong with or incomplete about the set-up — Fitzpatrick is just pissing on Allen because his pariah status among progressive Millennial women allows her to dismiss his creations willy-nilly.
Roughly two months ago a very early draft of Eric Roth‘s screenplay for Killers of the Flower Moon (dated 2.20.17,...
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Frances McDormand‘s Fern was strong but mule-stubborn and at the end of the day self-destructive, and this stunted psychology led...
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Can’t decide which performance is better, although I’ve always leaned toward Tina Vitale, her cynical New Jersey moll behind the...
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Two days ago (1.19) a Facebook tribute congratulated Tippi Hedren for having reached her 94th year (blow out the candles!)...
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A friend suggested a list of the Ten Best American Crime Flicks of the ‘70s. By which he meant films...
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I’ve never been able to give myself over to Sam Peckinpah’s Major Dundee, a 1965 Civil War–era western, and I’ve...
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