Ever since I was a child, folks have thought they had me pegged, because of the way I am, the way I talk. And they’re always wrong.
Capote is a film that literally hangs on the performance of its star, so it’s a good thing that Philip Seymour Hoffman completely vanishes into the role of author Truman Capote. Without Hoffman’s presence, I’m afraid that this film wouldn’t hold together. It certainly wouldn’t have held my attention.
Forty is the new twenty.
Hey, I went to see a juvenile sex comedy and an actual love story broke out. The 40-Year-Old Virgin manages to shoehorn two wildly disparate storylines successfully into one film. On one hand, you have a raunchy workplace comedy about a trio of sex-starved low-lifes working in a store that suspiciously resembles Circuit City, while on the other you have a surprisingly sweet romantic comedy about two people with more on their mind than the horizontal lambada.
Vengeance is a lazy form of grief.
The Interpreter is, on one hand, a by-the-numbers poltical thriller, raised above the crowd by a first-rate cast, polished and professional execution and, most importantly, its primary filming location. Sydney Pollack’s crew was the first ever allowed to film within the confines of the United Nations complex in New York. The heightened sense of reality gained by this access gives the film an urgency and potency that it would not have achieved if they’d had to fake it.
