We are the cats inside. We are the cats who cannot walk alone, and for us there is only one place.
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Monday, April 25, 2011
A hairdresser is afflicted with the stigmata of Christ after acquiring a rosary formerly owned by a deceased Italian priest who himself suffered from the phenomena.
It has some moments, but basically this is all supernatural nonsense with hardly any cinematic appeal.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
I will tell you in a few words who I am: lover of the hummingbird that darts to the flower beyond the rotted sill where my feet are propped; lover of bright needlepoint and the bright stitching fingers of humorless old ladies bent to their sweet and infamous designs; lover of parasols made from the same puffy stuff as a young girl's underdrawers; still lover of that small naval boat which somehow survived the distressing years of my life between her decks or in her pilothouse; and also lover of poor dear black Sonny, my mess boy, fellow victim and confidant, and of my wife and child. But most of all, lover of my harmless and sanguine self.
The aging patriarch of an organized crime dynasty transfers control of his clandestine empire to his reluctant son.
A flawless epic with mastery to be found in all parts, a true cinema classic.
Daniel Johnston, manic-depressive genius singer/songwriter/artist is revealed in this portrait of madness, creativity and love.
Wonderfully sensitive and insightful study of Johnston's life and music and how both are inseparably entwined.