piverba

Ah, dear reader, let me weave for you a tale of the great white whale in the sea of cinema, a film known as The Whale, based on the script by Samuel D. Hunter. Allow me to spin a tale of the tragic story of Charlie, a modern-day Ahab, on a quest for fulfillment that leads him down a path of self-destruction.

Like the great Ahab in Herman Melville's Moby Dick, Charlie is a man consumed by his obsession, his white whale being the pursuit of his own desires. His reckless pursuit of pleasure leads him to abandon his wife and daughter to pursue a relationship with a man who has similarly forsaken his faith and upbringing in the name of his "gender inclination". This pursuit causes tragedy for all involved, and Charlie finds himself drowning in a sea of his own making.

The script itself is a patchwork quilt of characters, each with their own extreme qualifications and confabulated behavior, sewn together with explicitly visible seams. The result is a grotesque and almost surreal dimension, a distorted reflection of our own world.

Charlie's response to the tragedy he faces is to embark on a process of self-destruction through overeating, a method of suicide that is as original as it is horrifying. He is aided in his quest by Liz, the sister of his ill-fated lover, who oversees his demise with a detached and clinical eye. Meanwhile, Charlie's abandoned daughter Ellie serves as a constant reminder of his folly, a super-ego that torments him with subtle and constant self-torture.

Through it all, Charlie remains unrepentant, unwilling to seek forgiveness or redemption. He is a modern-day Ahab, driven by his obsession to pursue his own desires at all costs. His teaching of writing classes, with his main credo being honesty, is like that of a murderer who announces his crime in an attempt to elicit disdain and induce masochistic self-loathing.

In the end, Ellie's reading of her Moby Dick essay, with its reference to the author's attempt to save us from his own sad story, serves as a fitting metaphor for the script itself. The Whale attempts to save us from its own sad story with vague allusions to the depths of Melville's masterpiece, but ultimately falls short.

Ah, dear reader, let us not be lured by the siren song of The Whale. Like Ahab, let us beware the dangers of pursuing our own desires at all costs, lest we too find ourselves drowning in a sea of our own making.

Andrey Konchalovskiy is a Russian treasure, very creative director with long and fruitful career. Much was given to him by birth and much he had earned as a film director on his own. In my estimation, this film, as all his films, is a cinematic event. As any work of art, one must feel fabula carefully constructed (montaged) by the director. You classic training: Sergey Eisenstein, Italian neo-realism, etc.

Konchalovskiy was a part of the world cinema scene since sixties, he's deservedly internationally recognized figure. He makes, if not completely commercial, still film close to average audience, without formalisms making his films accessible only to connoisseurs. Yet, you can feel depth of the metaphors, compelling images, carefully constructed mise-en-scene, creative casting and dialog.

You must be living in USSR in the 80s and 90s to be able to appreciate some of the dialog and happening in Galya's flash backs to her childhood. But there is also a universal appreciation of child's hopes who's trying to please her mother - just to be slapped on the face. Child's tears and pain that compel her become something more than what she is destined to be. This energy feeding desire to stand-up which drives her, at the background of her mother and father, beyond redemption and hope. Her success at the end appears to be untrue, unjustified, impossible, especially in the view of a last scene of supposed her shooting by her former boyfriend, which connects her with the past, which just wouldn't let her go.

This failure/fulfilment paradox is a cautionary tail and ambiguity of wish-fulfilment, ill defined and not supported but only desire of motherhood and social standing. As if Konchalovskiy modeled a life situation which he couldn't understand/resolve himself and leave this mystery to ponder by the viewers.

Careless and tasteless renaming of the film to "Indiscretion ..." is inexcusable mistake. This film is symbolic gem packed with meaning(s) lending itself to multitude of interpretations: trains coming and going, people playing their social roles, a stage of life with standard roles and descenders, scrutinized and subject of moral judgements. Termini's architecture with its multiple "levels of purgatory" and Piranesi-like dungeons where drama unfolds creates an ideal space for a possibility or trial, condemnation and punishment - if only imagined and therefore more potent.

A viewer is put in active role constantly forced to decide and take a pro- or con- stands. Termini is where everything starts, ends or transitions. What a metaphor of Life! Limitations of time so palpably portraited with a clock showing two minutes and how long these minutes stretched, almost to infinity. Some people found this time impossible to bridge: "Just get on the train already", "Just leave the train", "Just make your mind already". This struggle between desire and duty is infernal. It never can be quite resolved.

The Termini is also belonging to its time, as Italy of 1950th, after the war, bursting with social movements, government bureaucracies. Deus Ex Machina of highly placed government official, who can make or break you on a whim. Press and their role, etc. It is all there as an idea and an implementation. You can criticize the execution but the idea is flawless and needs contemplation and further development. Bravo!

I loved it now as well as I loved it first time, when I saw it in the early sixties. Maybe more. It is an epic, perhaps not very accurate historically, still appealing. You see interesting director's solutions, attention to details. Heston and Loren are gorgeous and inspiring. Mass scenes would be quite cost prohibitive nowadays and be substituted by animations. Yes, it is long. But somehow I do not get tired. The dialogs, the music, the costumes, the scenery, the makeup - they used to take their time to do all of these things back in the day. I think El Cid can hold its own against any contemporary epic, without an exception.

The usual: sex, violence, guns, murder and other such pleasantries - badly executed at that. Bodies are vividly dissected, throats demonstratively cut, someone is beaten with a club to crush every bone and organ of his body before actually killing the poor wretch - sadism's freely dispensed right and left, except that Marquis de Sade himself might had scratched his head in bewilderment. Some people, who could actually like this sort of entertainment (I pass no judgment), may not be familiar with Leonardo's name, an obscene thought providing that he's might be one of the most outstanding personages in the human history. I wonder why Mr. Goyer decided to insult memory of a great man? But, of course you will say, because Leonardo's power, his fame, his reputation, because of this association automatically guarantee at least some social interest to a TV series. It is simply to exploit, to make a buck regardless of the consequences. I say, let's give Mr. Goyer the lowest rating we can, for his outer disrespect for us, the people, and our history.

This feature is shameless remake of the french version "ANYTHING FOR HER" http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1217637/ of 2008, as was noted by other posts, however I prefer this, later version. What escapes my understanding is why there was a need to plagiarize the french version?

This is engaging and manipulative film bursting with platitudes, like alcohol or a cigarette, it will relax you with cathartic ending. It is about unconditional love, family and individual against state and society. It could had been done better, but it is wasn't. Crowe's pleasing, as always and Banks looks pretty.

To make the discussion more serious several themes / issues can be considered. (a) Law and its violation - can it be avoided to condemn innocent? How do we know if someone's innocent? Obviously, through the logical deduction (hopefully sound). Can we afford to have one innocent condemned person in prison? Would it rather be better to free 100 guilty instead? Crowe as a teacher questions his students' value of logic in Don Quixote. His standing by his wife is an expression of supra-logical belief in her innocence. (b) What is true love that compels the husband to risk his own life in order to free his wife. Is it right what he did, or wrong? What is the basis for our moral judgment? I found germs of interesting ideas to be pondered but very little in their development. The ending, no matter how cute, presented questions: what's now? What if the same thing will happen to them in their new country? How long they will hide? What the meaning of their life and how they will re-embed into society? The low score reflects the lack for development and shameless copying of previous french version.

This is a tiny budget feature that is adequate and if you understand Russian sometimes amusing with reasonable sense of humor, which will be lost if you have to read subtitles. It is not particularly original and somewhat trivial considering youth of the director.

There are some feeble attempts at poetry as in "love is like walking in a snow without leaving footprints" - from the diary of main character.

The story concerns thirty-something man, who suffered loss of his girlfriend due to the drunk driving accident where he was at fault - you see how original this is. Through the advise of a psychologist he settles in Moscow and gets a job in the magazine for women. He meets his neighbor, a rebellious but clever teen, who falls in love with him and he with her. We are shown standard situations with nothing original.

I suppose, the take away idea from this film is to, when you meet someone that clicks with you, then grab them and do not let them go, no matter what age they are. The statutory rape (the girl is seventeen) is no impediment.

This film came highly recommended by an acquaintance, so I felt obligated to see it. It turned out a sort of a dramatized detective story with obtuse chain of events. Father of a troubled family of two very young kids, one seventeen year old teen named Ree and wife who's completely lost it, disappears while have bonded his family farm. In case of his non-appearance in court the farm will be forfeited and the family will become homeless. Another possibility to save the farm is to prove that the lost fugitive father is dead.

Ree is set out to do just that. First she hopes her father is still alive then after it becomes unlikely, she hopes to find his remains (his bones in the title of the film). Eventually she succeeds through perseverance and ability to 'keep her mouth shut'.

The initial sympathy for a clean young girl with only one prospect in life – joining the army, is slowly waning, while the story unfolds. The girl is proud of her roots, her family. She cares for her siblings. She is self sufficient, can cook, have skills with rifle, serious – perfect canon fodder for Iraq or Afghanistan. I found the usage of the youngest sister extremely manipulative. The family lives like animals, hungry and dirty; yet traces of previous abandon (perhaps due to the drug money) is still visible.

The father was involved with drugs usage, production and distribution - and I thought that was a curse of large urban centers. Seems like all father's relatives, living near-by are also involved with the drugs. The relatives eventually end the father despite of their blood connection – father allegedly squeal on them.

The symbolic order controlling narrative shows Ozarks farmers, as a whole, a kind of drug pins, mostly due to blood association. They are indignant, yet show traces of honor, friendly and hospitable, yet capable of murder. If this is a device to create ambiguity, then it is a success. If I would be living in the Ozarks, I would wish to do something bad to the film director for this unflattering generalization.

After watching this film I felt annoyance with country music, which I love, but somehow this film made me hate it. I had an unpleasant feeling of being dirty and the urgent need to take a shower.

I will spare you from a detail narration of this film, you can read this elsewhere, and simply address what I found useful in it.

As a paying job, Adrian, an aspiring composer, who we saw creating music (or noise) with buckets, paper and other quotidian materials, plays at the restaurant a beautiful Chopin's piece while the restaurant patrons talk on the phone and completely ignore the music. His execution is virtuosic and lends credibility to his skill as a musician. Suddenly, he start playing cacophonous and violent piece, beating on piano. Without a specific frame of reference it is impossible to tell whether this is a noise or a music. People start paying attention and most of them (if not all) are turning angry. Adrian succeeded to annoy everyone which is more than what he could do with Chopin. Previously when asked what is noise and what is music Adrian explains that even Beethoven may be a noise in certain circumstances. From this perspective, art is what moves us - gives us energy, motivates us and calls to action. Art must be new. If we like what we see or hear - this is probably not art. If it pleases us, it is most certainly already became familiar and no longer new.

Now, I do not praise Adrian's music, for this I have very little information to make an informed judgment, but I do trust Madeleine's taste and believe she is right to recognize him as an original. I also see him participating in the performance of Schoenberg's Pierrot lunaire and hear him speaking about atonal music, etc. He also prepared a la John Cage silent piece, executed at the end, as a joke. All this tells me that he is a credible musician searching for his unique and authentic way in art. Musical arts gets more serious treatment in the film because of David Lang's expert contribution.

Another selected 'artist', a conceptual artist, Monroe, does not have the credibility and appears to be rather autistic and emotionally disturbed. Madeleine seams to believe in him, but may be mistaken. Perhaps her attitude toward art as being solely anti-commercial activity, is incorrect. Art defies formulas and needs to be reevaluated every time anew.

DiNapoli and Parker showed their attitude toward what they consider to be art and what is a heck job. There are many interesting subplots that I found stimulating. Who called this film a comedy? - this is serious film about serious matters. I enjoyed it very much. Although the film's subject matter is not particularly new, it nevertheless is important and rarely receive any cinematographic treatment.

In the film finale, when a man approaches Adrian and says: "Your art changed my life," this is an ultimate justification of artist's social persona. But for all of us, in our intimate internal being, there are things we do because we simply have to, without any hope nor desire for external approval, we do them as a form of spiritual survival.

Let me just admit it: I am Ronald Colman junkie. I love all his movies. I think the guy got real class. His voice, his quiet confidence, his aristocratic demeanor.

Although this film is somewhat literal it does have an interesting message that is perhaps an original one - what does it take to be an actor and not just any actor but a very good one, the best? If you believe in Stanislavski's method of "living the part" this emotional immersion into life of a character an actor plays must be as complete as possible to be able to feel what the character feels in order to communicate your feeling to an audience. If the actor also forced to play this role for many years it is not surprising that the actor's psyche alters, perhaps significantly. Not being an actor myself, I could not even begin to understand how it must make someone feel. This must be especially difficult for theater actors.

I think this film considers one such scenario that, if played consistently, could only lead to actor's madness. It got me thinking of dangers of 'role playing' in my individual life, that this role playing is consequential. After all "All the world's a stage ...", is it not?

If this what gets Academy awards, Golden Globe, etc. etc. then woe on our cinema. This film is full of prison tropes, excruciatingly long and pointless. After reading a positive review of MANOHLA DARGIS in the Times, who's not often complementary and is not afraid of controversy, I invested two and a half hours of my time and left disappointed. What Dargis praised is in the murder scene where main character notices fancy shoes in the vitrine, while he should be preparing for the kill and his emergence after committing the murder as if being reborn (being in a haze as if in the womb) as a committed killer. This was indeed interesting solution, but what about other 2 hours and 20 minutes? The film feels like an average student's work.

There is an element of 'strangeness' in the film because of twice removed language-culture: in the framework of French state and language we see French-Arabs and French-Corsicans with Italian flavor and also some French-Africans. This is unusual for average American viewer, however overwhelming majority of action is taking place in the prison, all you see is concrete of the cells and the shower room.

Characters and action are very poorly developed. Malik's motivation is not clear. He does not seem at first to be a killer, then succumbs to the pressure, kills his fellow Arab, then becomes good at scheming and moves into a leadership position. Interestingly, the apparition of his fellow Arab he kills, appears to him in the guise of a spiritual adviser and Koran teacher. As a result, Malik emerges as a positive character, finally becoming Arab again (this is after all his betrayals) and the wife of his deceased friend seems to offer herself and her child to him. The implication perhaps that Malik, who was an animal, now has connection with the child...? I give up.

In summary, the story line is a kind of lunacy, amateurish and embarrassing.

I like Rohmer realistic films, without background music, without closeups. A young 23 years old girl, still quite narcissistic, suddenly decides to reshape her life, specifically, to get married. The idea overwhelms her so completely that she's no longer interested in selecting someone she loves, rather impatiently first available candidate. She believes that the power of her charms (looks and personality), her resolve, will win over anyone. She's being supported by her girl-friend and somewhat skeptical but loving mother. Her plans are frustrated despite of her extraordinary efforts. The man is simply not interested.

There are many lessons in this example. Personality of the main character is very well developed, palpable, vital. I feel I knew someone like that. None of the characters are idealized, they all are very real. We see a slice of life, specifically French life, with its values, culture, attitudes.

Rohmer, first and most importantly, a teacher, helps us to see something important in human relationships, something very subtle.

Rohmer died this year at the age of 89. He lived longer than any of the French New Wave directors, a movement he belonged to. He believed that his films are closer to a kind of novel rather than to a theater. In my opinion, his usage of cinematographic tools was too subdued, timid, as if he was not quite sure what to do with them - and this is reflected in my rating. But whatever tools he did used, he did it well. His uniqueness and importance is beyond any doubt.

This is not a film to be forever written in the annals of cinematography but it is poignant tale of violence without glorification of the mob. If there is one distinctive character of this film it's it honesty. Yes, it's about cruelty, murder, vise of all kinds. It is suspenseful and unpredictable. All characters are killed, the assumptive protagonist is turned out to be a liar, similar to others, no better than the others, as it should and must be. He tells the story portraying him a reasonable person, even compassionate. Momentarily we may forget that he's an active participant of the mob, our minds are not ready to deal with complete negativity; we require a redeemer, someone positive, a counterweight to establish the equilibrium. Who triumphs? – yes, you guessed it – the boss - the most ruthless and unpretentious of them all. He's the arch-thug and does not make a secret of it. He can never be accused of being nice, he never thinks nice, nor acts nice, he does not need nor want anybody to think nice of him. He's honest. He rips out protagonist's tong because he would not tolerate lies and deceptions in his domain. This is fitting conclusion of a story of a mobster, who pretended to play the role of a 'good guy'.

Often we are shown films, such as with Steven Seagal, where the protagonist, who demonstrates ruthlessness exceeding that of his opponents, somehow portraits as a positive character, avenging society. The reality is that this protagonist prevails because he was more ruthless than the 'bad guys'. We feel relieved that someone did this dirty job for us, or we feel, vicariously, to be this hero ourselves. Both feelings are deceptive – we are being manipulated to obtain inauthentic relief, like a junkie, offered a fix. Violence, if shown at all, need not to be cathartic, nor feel like pleasure, neither remembered as an agreeable experience. It should feels badly, for it is stupid and self-destructive activity, not to be indulged in.

A better way to dispense with the story like this one is to pluck out the tong of the symbolic story tellers by not patronizing their films. In a way Jeff and Josh Crook did just that with regard to all this Mel Gibson's Hollywood trash. Their violence does not feel good – it feels ugly, pointless and dead; it has no future.

For those of you who did not read "The Road" and are not familiar with the work of Cormac McCarthy this must be tedious, pointless and boring film. You will be robbed of McCarthy's magnificent vocabulary and mastery of dialog - film does not communicate any of these qualities. Aside from these (and I am not trying to diminish them), the book is also pointless. The book expounds on McCarthy's fatherly love of his son, John Francis, to whom the book was dedicated, who he begot in his late sixties. His privacy and direct involvement with his son required that he would destroy the entire humanity to isolate his involvement with the child, so that he can personally influence and instruct him the way he believes it should be done. He even kills (in the plot, through suicide) his wife to achieve this ultimate control. This is an act of 'emotional cannibalism' - the cannibalism which McCarthy abhors as an ultimate evil. He's like oblivious vampire stages circumstances to suck out his son's unconditional love, effectively leaving him no alternative person to interact with but himself, as the only man alive, who does not want to kill him.

If you read horrifying "Child of God", the naive cowboy retro "All The Pretty Horses" or "No Country for Old Men" you may feel that the "The Road" is a logical progression. McCarthy is not comfortable with 21st century, neither with the second part of 20th, but having nothing to offer in a way of social change, he simply states: no country, anywhere on Earth, for guys with the old mentality like his. Now, having this young boy, he's painfully aware of his inability to be a good parent, while not trusting anyone else to come in contact with the child. Ultimately he kills himself, perhaps for his lack of faith, more likely for his failure as a parent, and lets another 'good and god fearing' family, which carries a fire inside, the notion he never explains, to care for his son.

These are some of the critique of the book - film has much less merit. Please understand, I enjoy McCarthy's work as a master of English letters, but as a philosopher and moralist, in my opinion, he's as inchoate as a child. His Texan chivalric notions of self-reliance, uprightness, horses, guns, etc. belong to 19th-early 20th century. However, the man is a master writer and this is what we should celebrate. His work is poetic, his dialog is simple and direct, he invents vocabulary which feels natural, his punctuation simple and unapologetic. His poetry is its own microcosm which I do not dare to define, musical and precise.

Hollywood is on the constant prowl for the Pulitzer Prize winners, as an insurance policy that, at least, secure them a return on their original investment, riding the title-wave of the academic acclaim and mass media status already achieved - this alone costs very dearly. Select famous actors, beat advertisement drums so that everyone goes deaf from the noise - the formula have been proved economically viable. We are conditioned to be 'positive' - just count how many 'useful' responses gets positive review of a mediocre film and compare to the number of 'read-but-found-not-useful' gets a critical response. The bleating herd of 'positive' thinkers enable art to become profit-driven, mass-media conditioned, repetitive and boring.

In the film "The Road" you will find neither entertainment, nor deep philosophy, nor inspiration, nor lessons for your life. You will neither laugh, nor cry. Neither you will feel the power of McCarthy's written word. My recommendation: read the book to enjoy McCarthy's style and eloquence, avoid the film.

I gave this film an embarrassing 3 - in my opinion it is not even good enough to get an angry 1.

God had no reason to banish Adam from Paradise - Adam remained absolutely pure, truthful and essentially 'perfect' human being. Then why he was portrayed defective as an actor in interpersonal relationships? Because he was! His peculiar personality falls under the DSM (Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders) classification as someone suffering from Asperger's Syndrome, a variety of autism – this label is a mere device to make the story plausible, not a suggestion of some special tolerance and extra sensibility toward people suffering from autism (although it is not a bad idea to treat anyone with respect and tolerance). As we often disappointed with people near us because of lies, petty crimes and misdemeanors, let us imagine someone like Adam, who never lies, no matter how painful sometimes truth can be, even lethal. Adam will tell the truth even if it kills someone. He is simply incapable of lying. Adam also can not understand humor, neither irony; his mentality is literal and devoid of ambiguity and complex metaphor. No wander Adam, despite his good looks, can't establish and maintain relationships with people.

This film explores ordinary humanity together with its idealized case, such as Adam, and questions whether we should demand Adam's perfection from others and from ourselves. No answers are given, no suggestions are made, except that Adam should leave the Paradise voluntarily if he wishes to connect with others and, as Beth finally decides, that 'perfect truth' is not never telling lies but something infinitely more subtle and sublime, having to do with pain and pleasure in the fullness of all life's manifestations.

Good script, solid acting and directorial work – I was not disappointed and recommend this film for viewing.

However, I have some gripes that were the cause for my lower rating and they require explanation. I felt the film to be somewhat flat, insufficient in conceptual layering, requiring more thought and tighter plot. I would wish to see better exploitation of Adam's dwelling in Paradise as a solitary, self contained individual and of impossibility of social existence in such state. In a way, the story of Adam and Eve's banishment from Paradise is a story of socialization and the loss of impossible absolute purity. I would wish … - but, regrettably, Max Mayer did not find it necessary to consult me in these matters.

The title actually better translated as "Against the wall" and, seems to me, expresses feelings of the director Faith Akin regarding fate of his Turkish compatriots transplanted from Turkey to Germany, very much dissimilar countries divided by culture, traditions and way of life. Cahit (Birol Unel) deeply assimilated Turk in German society, who lost someone dear to him and on the self-destruction mission. Sibel (Sibel Kekilli) is a young Turkish girl, feeling trapped in the stifling confines of her traditional family, not being able to escape, trying to commit series of unsuccessful suicides. I hope you are getting the picture, and this is not a pretty one! Both of them are driven by basic instincts to which they give themselves fully. Loveless sex, drugs, bar scenes – the works. They are both "walled in" by their individual worlds from which there is no escape. Cahit is unpleasant, nasty, egoistic, dirty and ugly personality. Sibel is passionate, self indulgent, immediate-gratification type. Both of them do not exhibit any trace of intellectual life what-so-ever. They as well could be a pig and a cow. Food, sex, drugs – not the drive to improve themselves, use what god's given, learn to see beauty in the nature, develop and use your mind instead of systematically destroying it.

Oh well, you will say, but they are in special circumstances. Human condition, you will say. What can you do? They are trying and trying but somehow can never quite kill themselves. Perhaps because their level of wretchedness can never exceed their hope for another round of sex, drugs, or any other such bodily pleasure. They hurt other people, who feel responsible for them, abuse them. And what about human condition of the rest of us, who are trying to bring meaning to our lives? Do we have rights? Do we deserve respect, even if we do not hurt others, working, trying to make life pleasant to others, do not ask and expect handouts? But they are mentally ill, you will say. Don't we have responsibility to care for sick? Are we to abandon them? Dump our daughters and friends when they are sick? Perhaps we can save them? Hopefully, the "Head On" will chip off a piece of the wall that isolates main characters and permit better their social integration into German-Turkish-Human society.

Faith Akin produced credible and potent work of art which will endure. The film can (and should be) viewed more than once and deserves the acclaim it had gotten. It is nuanced and rich in promises of more and better things to come from this director.

I was made aware of this film after watching on Philoctetesctr round table discussion: "Crazy Love: Who's Tormenting Whom?". The director Dan Klores and a panel of illustrious psychoanalysts were present. There was a lively discussion that I found interesting.

Concerning the film, I do not believe it was well made. The director, being a nice man, however did not have a clue how to develop the characters. He was just scratching the surface with superficial description of who they were. The documentary does not rise above the level of newspaper article and film medium was not appreciably exploited. Burt and Linda are both quite unattractive people, only desirous of possessions: Burt wanted Linda and Linda wanted anybody, preferably rich. She would only market her virginity to the highest bidder after all legal documents are sealed. She's so infinitely boring. Burt is a pathological liar, therefore very good and successful attorney, an inventor of the ambulance chase. Once he decided he wants something, he'll get it, even through murder or mutilation. The pair is quite a condemnation of American bourgeois of 1950s. I think (and hope) that this social mentality already died out. All the ideas you get after viewing this film, if any, you will generate on your own, without the assistance of the film, and you will need quite a bit of imagination to do so.

If not for Philoctetes round table discussion this would've been complete waste of time. In the future I will avoid films directed by (or associated with) Dan Klores.

I liked this fourth film of James Gray very much. It is interesting, nuanced, well photographed and directed. The casting is very fitting: Joaquin Phoenix, Gwyneth Paltrow and Isabella Rossellini require no introduction - every film where they appeared was a kind of success.

I liked the story line precisely for the reasons some of the critics did not - inconclusiveness of the situation. The narrative should not be treated as a moral tale with prescribed behavior and a suggestion to act certain way. For some of us, who lived and experienced, life situations have no clear conclusions, especially in the matter concerning personal relationships. And so we are shown various geometrical configurations of relationships between people: A loves B, B loves C, C loves D; D perhaps does not love anyone; C can not settle for B and returns to D when D calls; B settles for A. Who's right and who's wrong? Luckily this is not all there is about this film. There are interesting shots, exotic locations (Brighton Beach, Brooklyn, NY), very good acting.

Some reviewers complained that the narrative is too predictable - perhaps. I personally would prefer more broader metaphor, perhaps more connection with social dimension, more resonance between personal and social. Oh well, I hope this is coming in the next Gray's films.

I saw WB many times, in 80s, 90s and again in 2009. I love Vivien Leigh and Robert Taylor, both are handsome people and good actors. Taken historically, WB was a solid film when it was released in 1940, and may had warranted 8/10 rating at that time – not today. From a film making point of view, it holds no special appeal. Characters development is very sketchy and superficial. Myra (Leigh) is just a beautiful woman, which stands out from the crowd because of her looks, a poor ballet dancer and an orphan girl - not much further concerning her characters is shown or could be inferred from the film. Roy (Taylor), by the implication of his name is of a noble (royal) blood. He's good looking, pleasant in manners, simple minded and naive. Myra and Roy belong to different social classes and, as film shows, members of these classes should not cross class boundaries, to avoid peril (exemplified by the death of Myra). Their marriage just fated not to be, first due to a technicality, and then because Roy's leaving for a war. Mistaken death of Roy is a test for Myra, an ordinary person, which she could not possibly pass. Should she be of a royal blood, she would rather die before sinking as low as becoming a prostitute. In general, it is very difficult to justify someone becoming a prostitute, no matter what the excuse. For a person of higher class to become a prostitute would be tantamount of death anyway, because of pride etc. But an ordinary person will act as ordinary person, and will do anything to survive - the loss of honor is not crucial (life/death) for her. A person of high birth will be honorable, truthful and decent no matter what. So the ideology of the film is still biased toward tradition, nobility and eugenics. Albeit it is possible that preservation of selective gene pool may result in a better person - I am not arguing ideology - in today's world this is no longer significant. Today even interracial marriage is everyday occurrence and class distinctions became rather wealth distinctions.

In my opinion, the plot is silly, at least so it appears today. The scenes when Myra and Roy contemplating present and past on the bridge (a symbol of what connects and separates them at the same time) are maudlin and not believable. There is just not enough subject matter to justify what is being shown.

I believe this film aged particularly badly and is deservedly receives no popular attention.

To avoid over-analyzing this film, a job that was quite adequately done by many one-star raters, I simply would like to make several, hopefully original, comments and also to lower rating a bit - to me this film is obscenely overrated.

Perhaps seventy eight years old Eastwood started seriously contemplating mortality and what would be a good way to go with a bang, one can entertain such thoughts, even when not in a hurry to die. Self-sacrifice always sells - how anyone can object? And how such a gun-man as Eastwood can go, other than by a gun? You just can't teach old dog new tricks. I think it is too late for him to start making new kind of film, he already have said all he could say and now just cuts and pastes from his earlier work. Yes, he was great in his genre, (spaghetti) westerns. He was the best in Sergio Leone films and very good as Dirty Harry. But how good is he now?

With almost limitless film media released every year and systemic lack of time to view it, when planing to invest some of this precious time to see a film, of a good quality, I dare to say something new, it should be a lesson to all of us not to expect anything new from a person with fifty-year career behind him, who amply demonstrated what he's capable of, and not to waste our precious time in vain hope to find something new in his work. That is if you, as I, wish to see something new - is it not one of the top requirements for a work of art? However, should you just wish again hear: "Go ahead, make my day ...", then by all means, help yourself.

I am afraid but I have to dissent from the popular opinion and disagree with awards givers and most of the people so fervently complementing this film for veracity, poignancy, greatness of directorial and acting success. I strongly disagree with all these opinions.

The film is predictable, boring and suffers from bad taste. The situation of aged 'broken down piece of meat' wrestler is not typical, nor believable, neither interesting. It is a story of poorly lived life (not developed by the scenario) of contemporary gladiator. His life is paralleled with the life of a 'virtuous' stripper, who he intends for his sweat-heart. Do you know why most sympathetic characters in this sort of films (and there many of those) are always a drunkard, a prostitute, a drug addict? Do you know people like this? I do not! So where is the truth, the poignancy, do you wish to be like them, do you wish your children to be like them? Is this an example of who you do not to be?

The plot is also attempt to compare the wrestler's wounds with the passions of Christ. OK, if that was an intent then why it was not developed at all; just a statement or allusion to the fact does not make it meaningful - the situation is very contrived and unreal. More precisely, the film is about Mr. Rourke's passions as he correctly stated in a TV interview.

I do feel sorry for the great human material named Mickey Rourke, who was endowed by nature with great body, face, good deal of talent and who squandered it all, wasted in the orgy of drugs, violence and self-indulgence. I do hope that he will be able to remake and reinvent himself - but this is no reason, at least for me, to take part in his continuous Sado-Mazochism, evident in "The Wrestler".

The "Benjamin Button" has a certain pretense which you realize after an analysis. It is slow, contemplative, with numerous promising setups and sub-plots. You attempt to grasp symbolism, hypothesize what could a "great new ideas" be derived from here. You think of cinematic experience, special effects, montage, mise-en-scène. You wait anticipating all of this tie up at some point and create a catharsis. Finally, it ends, and you are left with nothing. All the stories, scenes, episodes – everything is left unresolved, childishly trivial, superficial and weak. No ideas, no character development, no thought. Many story lines, such as daughter, learning of her real father's precarious condition, her mother, dying of cancer, the hospital scenes in the onset of Katrina in New Orleans (?). What's missing is 9-11, Afghanistan and Iraq wars and election of Obama. I started from detail analysis of all sub-plots, but had to give up finding this exercise utterly exhausting.

This is pretentious small 'moving pictures' which only be remembered for the utter inaptness of directorial and screen writer's work.

If you are interested in entertainment then get an "Iron Man" or something like this – and this is not to be taken as a reproach, sometime we need just mindlessly relax. However if you would like to entertain meaning of your own life and re-examine its fundamental principles then this film is for you. Yes, this is Oskar-price material, in all respects, and I did enjoy it very much and not likely to forget any time soon. This is not mindless and manipulative, self-serving sludge, but something you can take home with you, keep and use it to improve your own life.

The "Revolutionary Road" is not necessarily a street name; rather it is an attitude toward life. And so what if Frank (Leonardo DiCaprio) and April (Kate Winslet) are both seem to be an "ordinary people"? They loved the house on "Revolutionary Road" - understand this as a symbol of self-creation. When we are young we are all 'potentiality', we are a blank slate to be filled with anything. Soon we settle and stop dreaming, stop examining our lives – this is like death. After a while, Frank's and April's lives became rather mundane, not 'revolutionary'. This became the physical death of April and the emotional death of Frank. Although Frank physically survives and now dedicated his life to his children, his responsibility to himself, as individual, is unfulfilled and there is no future for him as a person.

The only authentic person in this story is Bill (Michael Shannon), who's happened to be psychotic and who undergone 27 shock therapy treatments, correction that society administer to make one socially acceptable; after all we can not just allow anyone forget their responsibility, don't we? He comes to the "Revolutionary Road" and feels at the right place, until Frank and April veer off this road. He's like their self-consciousness, unwavering and brutally honest; self-consciousness they would violently banish (Frank almost hits him and April is also angry at him). The fact that he is psychotic is another confirmation of his symbolism as anti-social construct of human psyche.

The film does not answer any specific question, it only raise and examine issues from several perspectives. It strongly asserts that we must treat our lives very seriously, not just live them. It is not that we need to give up everything and move to Paris, no! Paris is not a place, it is a state of being where you still have dreams of self fulfillment and constantly reexamining your life seeking meaning of your existence. When other people allude to Frank and April that, literally taken, moving to Paris, is ill conceived, they are neither wrong nor shortsighted. Literally moving to Paris will not solve any problem; moving to 'Paris' must be done psychologically, as an act of self-reevaluation. And it is not a matter of responsibilities toward people you love, its most of all responsibility toward yourself, to know that you are not settled (i.e. dead) but actively seeking meaning of your existence, that you are 'full of life and blood' as Frank said – for if you stop this process you are also not very good for the people you love.

Another interesting feature of the film is that it considers both freedom and constraint as dialectic opposites. Some people operate well and are very creative and fulfilled while constrained by a situation. You can always strive to be the best you can at you job, or be a good mother or father. Social constraints are not necessarily evil. For instance, look at the constraint of a religion – it is dogmatic but within these hard set canonical boundaries there is a great opportunity to improvise and achieve great results. On the other hand, some people can not deal with any constraint. Such people either create their own rules or are perpetually miserable while forced to live by rules of others. The former are the stuff from which great people are made of, the latter are eternally miserable.

These are different facets of the human condition which is an essence of our nature. This film quietly and seriously deals with these important issues. It is a worthy addition to our path toward better self-knowledge.

I liked "Season of Mists" (in Russian "Sezon Tumanov"). Without being redundant and repeating fine plot synopsis written by one of the sponsors Neil McCartney, my comments will be directed primarily toward the film interpretation and technical features rather than the literal narrative. I also was physically transplanted into another country where I live now already for 30 years and also from Russian-speaking world. There is indeed (or at least was) a significant difference in transplanting, especially while at a mature age, into a quite dissimilar cultural environment. While this is one of the messages, I believe the most important one is rather a midlife crisis and feminism's issues.

In the "Season" authors consider a case of a very bright and intelligent woman (and a feminist's message is very pertinent here) who settled, perhaps due to economic or selfish reasons, into a marriage to a 'good and decent man' who she does not quite love, but deeply respect. Her skills and talents seem to be misused (or under-utilized) in the English village, among those good meaning but simple country folks. She's obligated to this simple auto-mechanic, Gregory, who brought up her daughter as his own and loves her dearly. She's torn between her loyalty and gratitude to her husband and her ambition. This is a feminist work that shows greater dependence of woman upon external circumstances than of a man; even in the developed societies, woman is still more vulnerable, primarily because of her children, upon external circumstances and assigned social roles.

This English village is separated from the outside world by a roman-aqueduct (or a bridge) alluding to something basic, primal and ancient. The strange stone-statue and the old man (Darby), a sacred priest of the stone, who deals with the loss of his dear wife by imagining that she was kidnapped by aliens, he performs a daily ritual of her imminent return. Marina, the heroin of the film, roams around the countryside, on the edge of her village-universe; she walks on the roman-aqueduct, straight on the border between hers and outsider world. But at last, the time had come - Marina has an opportunity and acts on it - she falls in 'love' with Sasha, a second violin (the fact that he is a second, not first is quite significant). She also has an opportunity to be a published author. It is not that she is extremely talented, but perhaps she's not entirely gift-less. Her friend, Valya, appears to be successful in the profession, without having any talent. But what Valya's 'success' affording her? - An active social life, without true love and family, in the beautiful, yet cluttered and unkempt apartment. Initially appealing to Marina, eventually she dismisses all of this and chooses her old, stable, familiar life. She finds more meaning and fulfillment in this old English village.

Marina's decision to stay with Gregory is helped by her becoming pregnant from Sasha, who's melancholy, 'quiet desperation' and lack of initiative makes him a poor candidate for the role of father. Marina is pregnant again - with Sasha's child. It is as if this ancient English-heartland is good for education, family but is impotent to produce its own offspring and needs the blood from outside world (like Russia). Gregory (an old England) will accept this new child, as his own, as he already had done with Dasha, another Marina's child.

The final sequence, when Sasha comes to see Marina and finds her with the new child, without understanding that this is his own, relieved to learn that Marina will not be with him after all; he goes to the magic stone, where its priest, Darby, meets him. He always felt uncomfortable in this old English country, with its language and traditions. He rushes on the tractor (of all modes of transportation selected by the director) to bring him to the frontiers, this old roman-aqueduct that separates him from his Russian world. He appears to be content.

The "Season of Mists" is not just about mists in our lives. This is, first and foremost, a feminist's film; it is made by a woman and has the female feel to it. It provokes a quiet contemplation, without effusion and cheep effects. I heartily recommend this film for serious and patient people.

Very sad; it must be the worst, or nearly so, film I've ever tried to watch – of course I could not possibly sit till the end. "Why chicken crossed the street?". I let you guess the answer. This, taken as a metaphor, will aptly describe this film. Will Farrow probably have no self respect – or, perhaps, he stopped evolving in 5th grade, and he probably never got any grade above the C. Suffice it to say that I will never consider watching anything where he is present. Disgusting, tasteless, trash! It is even sadder that some reviewers voted 6 and even 7 stars. Because of such generosity trash like this is still being, and will continue to be made.