“It’s all a cross-section of my brain. It’s like martial arts, comedy, drama, metal; everything that you want in a movie. It’s all personal experience stuff for me. It’s very, very, very loosely based on feelings and experiences and passions of mine. The fact that people have been responding to it the way that they have is somewhat surprising.”
– Riley Stearns
Anchored by a superb performance from comedian, author, podcaster and essayist Maron and featuring wonderful supporting works by all three of his primary costars, especially a delightfully anarchic Watkins, Sword of Trust is a fast-paced O. Henry meets Mark Twain meets Tom Wolfe-like absurdist lark that sent me out of the theatre smiling.
Wild Rose is a universally aspirational story of retaining one’s individuality in the face of societal roadblocks that prefer conformity and the status quo over anything unique, its songs of faith, family and friendship worth singling along with.
The last third of Yesterday is an ineffectual slog that wastes the talents of its stars, and as breezy, inoffensively enjoyable and as adorably light as so much of this was to suddenly hear it hit so many sour notes was undeniably disappointing, my emotions gently weeping the more I keep thinking about it.
But it’s all haphazardly thrown together and never coherently focused, Jarmusch allowing The Dead Don’t Die to have a disheveled lackadaisical momentum that’s too nondescript to resonate and too messily pieced together for events to emotionally matter.
Like the character she portrays rules her evening talk show, Thompson towers over this movie with a stunning magnificence that’s extraordinary, and when I watch Late Night again in the future I will do so entirely because of her.
In the wake of current events, it is ironically depressing that the Trump administration’s ban on transgender individuals serving in the military goes into effect the same day as this doc’s New York theatrical release, Knowlton’s feature couldn’t be more timely or essential. Open your hearts and your minds and give The Most Dangerous Year an immediate look.
The Guilty asks tough questions about right and wrong that straddle the line between good and evil with heartrending clarity, and no matter how selflessly pure the act innocence and guilt still mix via an uneasy symbiotic relationship with neither attribute able to exist without the companionship of its polar opposite sibling.
“I think Gilda brings back memories for people of where they were and what they wanted from life. It brings back a youth. People who know Gilda, love Gilda.”
– Lisa D’Apolito