Was it just that I recognized "I don't know what your rules are; I don't want to get scolded again" as a direct quotation from
my mother, or does
Dianne Wiest act all those young whippersnappers off the screen? In truth, all the performances are excellent, and the script embodies a rare truth about mourning. Another rough one to watch (would have been a very bad idea to double-feature this with
Blue Valentine), but this one, without pulling, you should pardon the expression, any emotional rabbits out of its hat, allows us some hope at the end--the hope, essentially, of putting one foot in front of the other.
Trailers
- Biutiful--A bit of the critical blush seems have gone off the González Iñárritu rose, but I'm in nonetheless.
- The Beaver--Oh, god, Jodie, think it over! One friend theorizes that this is Foster's acknowledgment of the time in Robert Downey Jr.'s career when he needed rehabilitation and Mel as producer got him The Singing Detective; this, then, is a pay-it-forward. But whatever the reason, is looks so disastrous.
- The Lincoln Lawyer--Feh.
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