I use that headline to make a point about Sam Mendes’s new beautifully crafted film Revolutionary Road. It Stars Kate Winslet and Leonardo DiCaprio as a couple who have fleeting moments of happiness, but mostly cannot find a way to satisfy their lost desires and dreams.
BUT The Wheelers have made it. April (Winslet) and Frank (DiCaprio) have the house with the white-picket fence and two kids. Frank works at a decent job he cannot stand and April is a fulltime housewife who had dreamed of being an actress. So what’s the problem?
Obviously if you were thinking that question you probably wouldn’t sympathize with April and Frank when they talking about wanting to feel alive and special. Or you won’t sympathize with each character when they start cheating or when April declares that she is trapped or when Frank says he doesn't want to end up like his father.
April is selfish, immature and aggressive. Frank is passive-aggressive, a coward and a smooth-talker. It was a match made in heaven and at times it becomes difficult to watch these two simmer and explode.
However Winslet and DiCaprio make Revolutionary Road and I couldn’t keep my eyes off their wonderful performances. And even though I had a problem with the wordiness of Justin Haythe’s script Winslet turns those overly intellectual speeches into pieces of terrifying venom and despair while DiCaprio turns those 50s misogynistic lines of power into spineless weapons of hope.
Through all the ugliness seething in Revolutionary Road emerges a wonderful, if a bit clunky, film. Michael Shannon as an electroshocked son of The Wheeler’s friends says most pointedly to them, “Plenty of people are on to the emptiness, but it takes real guts to see the hopelessness.”
I think we care about April and Frank because more often than not, we see it too.
I haven’t followed David Fincher’s work as much as I’d like (although check out the magical assembly cut of Alien 3). I basically got a lot of shit for not seeing Fight Club freshman year of college.
So I was slightly apathetic when I first heard of The Curious Case Of Benjamin Button even thought my peers sang praises for Zodiac. However, I have always respected Brad Pitt and I often fall in love with Cate Blanchett so I was excited to see their performances.
The Curious Case Of Benjamin Button is about (in case you haven’t heard by now) a man who is born looking like an old man and ages backward through several eras. As someone said he is a man of his condition and Benjamin touches lives and sees history literally happening right before him.
Before this film was released those who had seen it were hailing it a masterpiece, but as I sit today, critics are as sharply divided as my friends. Roger Ebert had a heart attack at the very premise whereas Sasha Stone from Awards Daily is in love with it. Most average moviegoers call it a masterpiece whereas film majors and filmmakers call it essentially a Forrest Gump rip-off (Eric Roth wrote both screenplays). So how do I feel?
It’s a beautiful movie and if you don’t have respect for Brad Pitt after this film than I think you have lost your way. He is simply electric, transformative and when he finally comes of age it takes your breath away.
Cate Blanchett is no slouch either. Although I love her more in other films, The Curious Case Of Benjamin Button is just as much about her as it is about Pitt. Daisy is a normal girl who meets this strange man and falls in love with him, but it isn’t that easy. I think it’s unfair to think of her as shallow, what would you do if you met Benjamin Button?
Ultimately how I feel about this film is more important than any kind of logic. Is it a masterpiece? No. Will it win best picture at the Oscars? It’s a possibility. Will it stick with me? Yes. There is something so irrevocably sad about The Curious Case Of Benjamin Button and this man’s life through history. I’m more inclined to cherish those I love and I’m grateful for that enlightenment more than anything.
Independent film director Kelly Reichardt is telling a simple story in Wendy And Lucy with deep implications.
A girl named Wendy (played with graceful complexity by Michelle Williams) is on the road in hopes of getting a good job up in Alaska. She brings her dog Lucy with her on the journey filled with nights sleeping in her car and refreshing in gas station bathrooms. However through a series of events and a broken-down car, Lucy goes missing and Wendy must use her wits and what little cash she has to get her back.
The film is so beautifully minimal it almost takes your breath away how bare and real everything feels. Reichardt said in an interview that they didn’t have money to close locations like big Hollywood films so the environments they were filming in did have a whirling sense of spontaneity and truth.
The film’s political subtext about economic hard times hits most poignantly when Wendy, asking to make change for a payphone, is offered a chance to use a security guard's cellphone while he says, “No one uses a payphone anymore.” Harsh words for a girl stuck in dire straits.
Wendy And Lucy is ultimately about the interaction between strangers and as Wendy makes her way in this small town, Reichardt and writing partner Jonathon Raymond explore all the subtle details to how we treat those fleeting bodies around us and how we deal with them once one makes contact.
A beautifully minimal movie, Wendy And Lucy hits harder than you think and Michelle Williams lucid and striking performance cements this as definitely the best independent movie this year proving you don’t need big bucks or special effects to strike a chord or lay reality bare.
MILK, the new Gus Van Sant film about assassinated gay activist and 1977 San Francisco State Supervisor Harvey Milk, is anything but conventional.
The film starts off on a rocky foot quickly skimming through Milk’s failed attempts at gaining office in San Francisco. I think maybe if Van Sant and screenwriter Dustin Lance Black had spent more time on just one or two events leading to the ’77 win the beginning might have played smoother. A small complaint aside, seeing Harvey Milk’s transformation from an inspired go-getter to an enrapturing delicate leader is fascinating.
And as everyone has already stated (skeptics and fans), Sean Penn gives a phenomenal performance as Harvey Milk. He really is quite beautiful here. The way he interacts with his friends and enemies, tenderness and humor, makes me wish I could have met the man himself. Sean Penn becomes the engrossing personality and all ego and vanity are thrown out the door.
The film hops and skips a long through Milk’s trials, but really hits its stride when the passage of Prop 6 (The ability to fire teachers based on sexual orientation) looms ahead in 1978. Milk tells his boyfriend Scott Smith (a wonderful James Franco) that these fights are bigger than him, bigger than their relationship. Scott can’t take the neglect so he leaves. Milk was a man (a hero) who suffered greatly for the cause, but he took it all in stride and with a smile.
The battle becomes more than just cries against Anita Bryant (a homophobic hate monger and former pop star) when off-balance San Francisco State Supervisor Dan White (the extraordinary Josh Brolin) starts to become obsessed with Milk. He watches him constantly on television, invites him to his son’s christening, tries to make random deals with him and in one truly chilling scene White, drunk and late for Harvey’s birthday, confesses some very creepy thoughts and pathetic assertions. White seems to be an embittered ex-lover, jealous of Milk and his popularity. Dan White wasn’t a ridiculous homophobe, just a lonely man who didn’t know how to communicate. And that’s the tragedy.
As glorious as the victory was in 1978, Milk knew that they needed to keep pushing forward and I think the power of MILK is in how contemporary this all feels. This is no dusty biopic lionizing Milk and his achievements. MILK is a rallying cry through the words and images of the man. Harvey Milk was a kind man, maybe too kind, but regardless you can feel his spirit here alive and full of wisdom.
I can’t even imagine where we would all be today if Milk was still alive; at least we still have his message and his words, “You gotta give ‘em hope.”
And the best movie of 2008 done in the shaky cam style goes to the Jonathan Demme directed Rachel Getting Married (Sorry Cloverfield!).
A few days before Rachel (an impressive Rosemarie DeWitt) is set to be married her troubled sister Kym (a transformative Anne Hathaway) is released from rehab to attend. As much as Kym wants to return to a normal life, her past actions bubble up to heated moments between everyone in her family; her father Paul (a tender Bill Irwin) tries desperately to keep it all together.
Shot in a “family movie” shaky cam style, Rachel Getting Married manages to make the now begrudged form into something fresh and interesting again. The camera chases Kym as she fast-talks and indecisively let’s loose during some inappropriate but understandable times. During a pre-wedding dinner, the cameras hand-held nature increases the tension tenfold than any static shots could induce.
I must spend some time talking about Anne Hathaway here. She loses herself so purely into the role. Half the time I didn’t even know it was her. It isn’t that she so much sheds her good girl image (she did that in Brokeback Mountain when she showed her tits), it’s that none of her past work or personal life come into play. She is Kym and only Kym here.
This film is all about interrupted moments of life. Moments don’t rise and fall like traditional film structures; arguments get deflated, laughs turn to tears and catharsis is short lived. There is a scene when Rachel starts to call Kym out on her attention grabbing behavior, but before Kym can call out Rachel on her manipulative attitude, Rachel announces she’s having a baby. Similar moments like this happen again and again reminding me of the fleeting nature of emotion.
Props to Jenny Lumet (Daughter of the great Sidney Lumet) for creating a tightly wound screenplay that for its particularly loose nature stays incredibly focused and hits home in all the right (if sometimes uncomfortable) places.
Simply put, Danny Boyle’s latest film, Slumdog Millionaire, about a young man who ends up winning a game show in order to find his true love, is an enrapturing, exuberant experience unlike anything in the cinema this year (or in general).
This film has a pulse. Slumdog Millionaire is a living breathing entity and we hold onto it for dear life from the very first couple frames. Jamal and Salim, two orphaned brothers, outrace police and racial infighting. They manage to escape the evil underground of child enslavement and they find themselves swindling rich American tourists all before the age of twelve it seems.
And it’s all a day in the life for a slumdog like Jamal (played in his oldest form by newcomer Dev Patel). Underneath that overwhelmed exterior (while being tortured-either in the hot seat of Who Wants To Be A Millionaire? or by Mumbai police officers) is a survivor, a boy who grew up in the streets making the most of what was within his grasp.
But outside his reach is Latika, a girl who has crisscrossed in and out of his life so much that they simply must be meant for each other. We know that it is written, but I don’t think anyone in the audience really cares. I never have felt as much joy as when the two lovers finally get their chance to be together.
Danny Boyle once again proves he can take any established genre, (Horror, Sci-Fi, or children’s film) and in this case Bollywood, and transcend the established tropes while simultaneously honoring them. Trust me, stay for the credits, it isn’t the same movie without them.
What I look most about the movie is how every element explosively intertwines in service of the story. Chris Dickens editing style matches the chaotic, but defining nature of this modern day fairy tale. A.R. Rahman’s score assisted by Sri-Lankan rapper M.I.A. really capture the postmodern spirit of India today borrowing from traditional themes while injecting it with modern day pacing. Anthony Dod Mantle’s exhaustive cinematography is rough around the edges, but very precise at capturing all the details.
Some scholarly folks may be thinking, “OMG liek Danny Boyle is British, how can he reflect the day to day hustle of Indian folks?” Fact. This film is not as overly sentimental as some critics argue. This criticism originates from thinking that in order to be happy one must grow up in a white suburban neighborhood or have a lot of money. The reason that Slumdog Millionaire finds so much joy is because Jamal, Salim and Latika have gone through so damn much. This film deals with some truly tragic issues, but Danny Boyle and screenwriter Simon Beaufoy capture the hope that ultimately shines through.
Seriously folks, Slumdog Millionaire is one hell of a movie, why haven’t you seen it already?
Humboldt County, written and directed by newcomers Darren Grodsky and Danny Jacobs is NOT a stoner movie. I repeat: if you were expecting another Pineapple Express you will be disappointed, but then enlightened if you decide to stay.
If anything Humboldt County, about a nearly failed med student named Peter (played with poignant precision by Jeremy Strong) who manages, through sleeping with a stranger (Fairuza Balk!), finds himself stuck in California’s lost coast, is like Garden State but Grodsky and Jacobs manage to freshen up familiar plot devices, remove the clutter and keep things spontaneous and reflective without all the gimmicks.
Peter was always told by his father to never “sit idly, there is too much life to live,” but it isn’t long before the pot gets to his head. Or maybe it’s life telling him to slow down for once and admire his surroundings. His stay with a former UCLA physics professor, Jack (an amazing Brad Dourif), and his family start to give Peter a bit of perspective on things he may have been too scared to think about due to his tyrannical father.
Humboldt County wafts and bubbles along at a meditative pace with moments that never overstay their welcome. My only complaint is an unnecessary death at the end. The film works well, if not better without it, because Peter, Jack, his wife Rosie (played delicately by Frances Conroy) and adopted son Max (Chris Messina) all endure deeper more metaphysical pains from their past and present. Smoking doesn’t alleviate these scars, but it allows for a moment to reflect. Something we all need.
In this modern world we all hope for salvation and in Humboldt County you may just find it.
My second article for Artsweek, I covered the premiere of Don Hertzfeldt's new film I Am So Proud Of You. Don is a film studies graduate of UCSB so it's cool that he comes back often to show us something special like this before anyone else.
The school year has begun at UC Santa Barbara and during the year I will be writing for Artsweek, the entertainment section of our school newspaper, The Daily Nexus. For publishing reasons I won't post the articles directly, but will give you a link to check it out.
First up is the film Lakeview Terrace starring Samuel L. Jackson!
Like it says in the headline, Pixar's latest feature directed by Andrew Stanton, Wall-E, is essentially, a masterpiece, an engrossing slice of pure cinema that I place near and dear to my heart.
I think the theme of Wall-E has been the most difficult to grapple with out of everything in the film. The environmental slant is almost incidental to the story. To say that it is all about the dichotomy between "technology" and "nature" would not give Stanton and crew enough credit. Actually it's kind of insulting. What they propose here is that the complex relationship between technology and nature has merely distracted humanity's struggle for survival. It isn't the tools we've acquired, it's how we use them.
The ending for Wall-E is so hopeful, sweet and sublime because humans and robots learn that it is motivation and passion that ultimately save themselves, not the nature of their existence. The film doesn't wonder why we are here, but what are we going to do while we are here.
I could have never have wished for such a startling and beautiful film that disproves (along with The Dark Knight) the idea that mainstream cinema enforces ruling ideology. I know there can be claims against this (made by a huge corporation, Wall-E as a working class character, hopeful ending, current hip environmental views, etc.), but time and time again Stanton and crew (through their passion and motivation) prove the cynics wrong and show that in Wall-E hope is something still worthwhile and even something still worth striving for in our infinitesimal existence.
I must admit I was not an Indiana Jones fan as a kid. With Jurassic Park, Star Wars, Legos, Ninja Turtles, Ghostbusters, Transformers toys and more (Lord Of The Rings and The Matrix as I got older) there wasn’t enough room (literally and mentally) for Indy and his archaeological adventures. And yet, sitting in The Embassy (The same theatre where The Return of The King premiere took place) as the lights went down I could not help but feel extremely giddy.
Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull is a damn fun movie that hits a lot more than it misses and the misses are things that no one should be upset about. Again, not being an Indiana Jones fanatic (only saw the three previous films twice) I did not come with that particular depth of knowledge, but I don’t think it mattered. The images from those films are ingrained in our collective consciousness and even if the context is lost, the icons remain.
I want to say a few things about the fans' worries (or the what seems to be the fans' worries). Shia is great, he was the BEST thing about Transformers and holds his own here. Him and Ford have great chemistry together. Cate Blanchett who I absolutely adore and admire is wonderful and a lot less over the top than she appears in the trailers. She finds the right balance between 50s B-Movie acting and dramatic subtly. Ford brings it here two hundred percent and I never knew how much I missed him until now. Yes there is more CGI than the previous outings, but its still less than any other Blockbuster today.
Steven Spielberg was my hero as a kid and this movie recaptures the awe, that classic Steven-fucking-Spielberg awe and I didn’t feel a single slow moment. The exposition relating to the historical aspects of the Crystal Skull, Mayans, etc. wasn’t clunky in the least. It made perfect sense in a story like this. I know that this final script was David Koepp’s hodgepodge of all the previous drafts, but honestly there was only one instance where I could tell. But overall I was laughing (even at jokes I know ‘ol Georgie suggested) and jumping in my seat with excitement. The action was dynamic and never lost its dramatic edge. I don’t know why people have to feel relieved when they say they enjoyed this film, did the Prequels really do that much damage? I guess maybe I’m not as desperate, but this film isn’t just a relief, it’s damn good cinema.
This review is a bit scattershot because it’s only been a half an hour since I experienced Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. It’s probably the best way to review this film though. And no it isn’t about turning off your brain and having fun, it’s more like flipping on a different set of lenses and leaving your cynicism at the door.
As I walked home in downtown Wellington I found myself whistling the theme and seriously looking forward to renting the original three films and maybe catching up on a lost childhood opportunity. I certainly feel like a kid now and it feels really good.
Simply put, Paul Thomas Anderson’s new film There Will Be Blood is a masterpiece. Not in a personal favorite sense or a critically acclaimed sense (even though it is), There Will Be Blood transcends all immediate accolades and is a film that will still be known when filmmaking is as old as painting.
Based loosely on Upton Sinclair’s novel Oil! the film follows the path of Daniel Plainview (in a beyond perfect performance by Daniel Day-Lewis) on his quest for total domination of life itself. He has a son H.W. (played by Dillon Fraiser) who is merely a tool for Daniel to gain people’s good graces. Daniel constantly clashes with a young self-proclaimed prophet Eli Sunday (in a jaw-dropping performance by Paul Dano). These are the most important characters, but don’t get me wrong, every small part is pivotal in shaping the three main characters’ goals, feelings and movements.
There has never been a film as brutally absorbing as this one. I feel equally spent and revitalized while watching and Johnny Greenwood’s score follows the very terrible essence of our hearts.
I find it frightening that I want to be just like Daniel Plainview. He has so much power over all those around them and why shouldn’t he? “These people,” he proclaims, are just fools, ripe for the picking. If these people get some water and shelter what does it matter if he gets something out of it too? And that’s where There Will Be Blood’s truth reveals itself.
In this interesting character study and somewhat allegorical tirade on organized religion and capitalism we see so many terrible qualities that aren’t brought about by larger unseen forces, but the very tools we all operate on. It’s like Apocalypse Now on acid, a surreal and terrifying look at what makes us human. It’s an extreme vision we might not like, but we all secretly want.
So If I were in the Todd Haynes film I'm Not There concerning Bob Dylan I would play the seventh Dylan.
As a young student I would discover Bob Dylan through easily palpable sources (ala “You’ve Got To Hide Your Love Away” by The Beatles) because I didn’t like his voice at first. But, I’d soon be familiar with Christian Bale’s character Jack Rollins, the prophet, finger-pointin’ folkie. Bale gleefully exudes the stereotypes I had about Dylan (the kind most people have) leaving me optimistic and expectant but vulnerable.
At this time I re-picked up the guitar and like Marcus Carl Franklin’s character Woody Guthrie, I picked up my heroe's songs pretty well, harp and all. I could start naming all of his influences, move a crowd and fake my way through any trivia contest. Like Franklin I could charm my way through all the standards (Just hear my desperate versions“Blowin’ In The Wind” and “The Times They Are A-Changin”), but I didn’t yet realize that imitation leads nowhere.
Finally I tried to branch out on my own, wildly and chaotically in the same vein as Ben Wishaw’s Arthur Rimbaud. I feel like I can provide a commentary on my current situation and I do well during the interrogation like cool Arthur, but after awhile the pressure gets too much to me and I start to lose my composure. I just cannot take these hounds and flashbulbs anymore; they do not say who I am.
I grab my weapon (“Not in any literalized sense”) and I decide to blow them away like Cate Blanchett’s Jude Quinn. “I refuse to be heard,” she exclaims nervously, neurotically; she’s a ghastly site, a person not quite centered and on a witty, fierce defense. And oh does she defend well against the likes of ravenously selfish fans, confused reporters, Michelle Williams as Coco Rivington (Edie Sedgwick) and Bruce Greenwood as a BBC journalist. I feel things starting to crack; I know that I cannot survive very long on drugs (maybe it’ll help The Beatles deal with those hard days and nights), apparent disinterest, angered disassociation and witty cool.
Maybe I should turn to God. Maybe I’ll see angels in the street like Jack Rollins. Christian Bale could lead me in the right direction as Pastor John singing the magnificent gospel of “Pressin On.” Could this be the freedom I need from the wary eyes of those who seek to impose on me like they’re trying with to do with Jude? It could be, but that would end in comfort and stagnation. So instead I start to hurt those around me without realizing and get caught up in the electric period of the man I’m imitating.
Heath Ledger as Robbie and I now have some problems with women and our own egos due to this ease of cynicism and wit that we borrowed from our heroes (The Godard references are perfect). Like Robbie I could only break through by listening and letting those around me listen (Charlotte Gainsbourg is the most gorgeous, striking woman on the planet).
Do I understand everything yet? No, there still is that whole fame and identity entrapment thing to confront. I decide to leave for awhile, maybe grow a beard and live a simple life ala Richard Gere’s Billy the Kid. I even live in a surreal world with carnivals, funerals, Halloween and animals. I try hard believing that I’m free from it all, but I really do care and I am forced to stand up and fight once again.
I jump back into the fray with Jude who is now dealing with a Fellini-esque circus around her. Can it be true that “Death is so part of the scene right now”? Is a motorcycle crash the correct way to escape? At the time it seemed the only appropriate tactic to get off the whirlwind. I don’t blame Jude for it one bit. Is reinvention death? Maybe in some circles, but I’m sure those are the circles you want to get out of.
Seeing the Todd Haynes masterpiece I’m Not There was like staring into a mirror.
The Darjeeling Limited features Wes Anderson in peak form. It is an amazing film that met my expectations and exceeded them. It has all the trademark “Wes Anderson-isms” (creative use of slow-mo, killer soundtrack, dead pan delivery, family explorations, brilliant and colorful mis-en-scene, etc.) and then some.
The plot of the film follows Adrian Brody, Jason Schwartzman and Owen Wilson as brothers taking a spiritual journey to India a year after their father’s death. Those who criticize Wes Anderson for style over substance are not actually watching. The Darjeeling Limited is perhaps in some ways Wes Anderson’s most openly serious of all his films, but it hits home in all the right places. Each brother is so nuanced and you really understand how the dynamics of family function. When Jason Schwartzman’s character asks his brothers, “I wonder if the three of us would've been friends in real life. Not as brothers, but as people,” there is a genuine sense that family does mean something; it’s more than just blood.
One great thing about the film that surprised me somewhat was its open satire of the “spiritual journey.” Owen Wilson’s character militarily plans out each day and makes his brother agree to “find themselves.” Anderson brilliantly conveys that we cannot make planned epiphanies and that these exotic landscapes are not just places where whites can reconcile their issues; India and it’s people in the film are living breathing entities and these young men cannot absolve themselves so easily.
Did I mention that killer soundtrack? Although there is no Mark Mothersbaugh this time around, Wes Anderson effectively uses music from old Satyajit Ray films as well as a few great classic rock tunes. Most noticeably he uses three tracks from The Kinks. There is a scene about half way through with the song “Strangers” that nearly brought me to tears and is on repeat as we speak. I would believe that Wes Anderson’s use of music in films has no rival; it is of a perfect synthesis with the images and the themes.
I know Wes Anderson had worries about what the effect of putting Hotel Chevalier (the short film featuring Jason Schwartzman’s character and his ex-girlfriend played by Natalie Portman) before would have on how the audience perceives the narrative focus in The Darjeeling Limited, but I’m happy to say that it really just adds a nice flavor and poignancy behind certain scenes and does not detract from anything.
It is hard for me to write a compact review for this after only seeing it once, but my initial opinion is that it is one of Wes Anderson’s finest works and continues to reveal him as one of the greatest filmmakers in the last fifteen years. The reason why The Darjeeling Limited works so well is that in spite of (or because of) our own human failings, amazing things can still happen.
No matter what your politics are or what you think of Michael Moore, he is a fantastic filmmaker. SiCKO, a documentary on the healthcare system in the United States, is one of the most moving pieces of cinema released this year. He is less on camera than some of his other films, but he hilariously allows himself to be the fool as he travels all over the world discovering that the US is behind in many many ways. I could tell that many of the audience members including me were moved, some to tears, some to increasing anger at how the system we live in is no longer a democracy, but a government run on our fear. A lot of people attack the level of “accuracy” of this and any of his films have, but honestly there are no unbiased forms of documentaries or unbiased anything. As soon as you feel something you’ve made a decision; or as soon as you haven’t, you’ve made a decision. I’ve run off into politics, but it’s impossible not to be moved by this film either way. Michael Moore is a successful filmmaker because he creates dialogue and a debate. I know this film isn’t one hundred percent accurate, but as an intelligent member of society I do a little research, I read a few facts, I try not to eat something if I don’t know what it is first. Why this film has made me even more incensed at the American Government is the fact that it only reinforces my own fears and observations at what is going on around us. Regardless, see this film or don’t, but please do something.
In case you didn’t know (And how could you not!), Wes Anderson’s new film The Darjeeling Limited comes out tomorrow (and by tomorrow, I mean in a few weeks because I’m not in LA, New York or San Francisco). However, today we get an opportunity, thanks to Apple, to see the short film Hotel Chevalier, a thirteen minute precursor to The Darjeeling Limited starring Jason Schwartzman and Natalie Portman. It’s classic Anderson in its style, great music selection, dead pan acting and a subtle to not-so-subtle mix of tragedy and humor. Since I haven’t seen The Darjeeling Limited I do not know what impact this little film will have on the narrative or Jason Schwartzmen’s character, but it stands on its own as another great example of the refined and original style that Wes Anderson has created.
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