Saturday Note:
Trumbo
Although I went to the movies yesterday, and saw most of Trumbo, I’m not counting it as a Friday Movie; at any rate, I’m not writing it up. I wanted to see Tell No One (Ne le dis à personne), but was shut out both times, not factoring in the (by me unguessed-at) popularity of this recently-opened film, which happens to be showing only in two rather smallish New York theatres.
Trumbo is a good picture, and anyone unfamiliar with the blacklisted screenwriter’s story ought to see it. I did not much care for the extreme close-ups of very shaggy faces belonging to a few of the famous actors who gave dramatic readings of Trumbo’s letters — but Joan Allen quivering at the edge of tears broke me down as well, and Nathan Lane did a predictably dandy job with what’s got to be the best father-to-son letter on the subject of masturbation ever. Perhaps it’s just that I’m not crazy about seeing documentaries in theatres.
What I did in between attempts to see Tell No One can be seen here.
It’s odd that I saw “Ne le dis à personne” in the extremely remote colonial outpost of Papeete, Tahiti, almost exactly 1.5 years ago, and the flick is only just now making it to American shores.
The BRIGHT side of the humanities: smile.