Why do these sad little undernourished independent films waste an hour wandering around to tinkling pianos and droning violins only to snag our interest just before they end? Most of these movies are as cliched and tired as the gas guzzling junk the studios regurgitate.
In The Heights is a chore to sit through. It gets in your face, trapping you like an annoying close-talker, leaving you no room to back away. The first half of the movie has not only the worst editing in memory, but the most editing I can recall. The dances are poorly staged, chaotically whittled down to snippets that rob us of the pleasure of seeing an entire dancer’s form and grace. Each shot is there to impress by showing…
About halfway through a New York Film Festival screening of Jacques Rivette's Celine and Julie Go Boating, Pauline Kael rose from her seat, grabbed her hat and coat, and announced to the sold-out crowd of film-snobs, "I'm going to the movies!"
Ms. Kael aside, Rivette is a critic's darling, the most opaque and difficult of the French New Wave maestros, even more so than Jean Luc Godard. Celine and Julie has been blessed by the eminent critics Jonathan Rosenbaum and…
See! Paul Newman's skinny legs in a cocktail dress!
See! The most bizarre sets in movie history!
See! Jack Palance chewing on those bizarre sets!
See! Lorne Greene chewing on the leftovers of those bizarre sets!
See! One of the most incompetently staged sword...!
Oh, hell, just make sure you see it! The nutty visual grandeur will keep you interested when nothing else does. The Silver Chalice is an unforgettable, visually insane, jaw-dropping stinker!