As I stood dying

A Single Man

Crit

"Tom," a good DP would have told the first-time director, "the camera is not a toy. Moreover, while your attention span may be very, very short, it's not impossible for a shot to continue to be interesting even after more than 2 seconds."

Worth seeing for a heartrending performance by Colin Firth as a brokenhearted man ready for a little auto-mortal coil shuffling off, and in order to see that My Future Wife Julianne Moore can, with heroic effort and a horrific early-'60s hairstyle, be made to look almost b- . . . almost b- . . . almost not altogether gorgeous. Except for the freckles--if she was supposed to look unattractive, she never should have been allowed to wear a sleeveless dress that exposes a zillion fantabulous freckles. But I digress.

My second film in a week set during the Cuban Missile Crisis. End credits surprise: former neighbor Stephen Trask, though he apparently didn't contribute any original music, is prominently credited as Music Consultant (but don't bother to look for it on IMDb). Oh! And I just realized: he has now worked on films with 3 of my 4 future wives. I'll let you puzzle out the specifics on your own.