Beth Whitman here. I’m the founder of WanderTours and am your (mostly) fearless leader. I escort groups on most of our trips – the exception being photography trips and yoga retreats where professionals are there to guide and teach you. After my first book was released, Wanderlust and Lipstick: The Essential Guide for Women Traveling Solo, women started asking me to bring them along on my travels.
While I generally don’t begin a review citing production values, I’m compelled to send a love letter to Chanya Button both for the screenplay, co-written with Dame Eileen Atkins, and for her delicate, but commanding direction of this historic, fascinating true story.
Julianne Moore (Julie) is one of Hollywood’s most gifted actors. She has won an Academy Award and an Emmy and was the first American woman to be feted with acting awards at film festivals including, Cannes, Berlin and Venice. Due to her father’s military career, Julianne lived in dozens of countries around the world.
Can you imagine joining screen, stage, and TV legends Dames Eileen Atkins, Judi Dench, Joan Plowright, and Maggie Smith for an intimate tea party? Would you like to hear them talk about their most interesting personal and professional lives and share secrets about of their experiences?
Ever since the 1970’s influx of more Southeast Asian people has a curious America questioning: ”Just who are those guys?” (a modified quote from the 1969 movie ‘Butch Cassidy & the Sundance Kid’ when one of them noted the persistent posse chasing them).
Sunday Bloody Sunday has been praised to a pulp, and that is understandable; it looks so ostentatiously intelligent and restrained. It has no plot, but a set of circumstances: a bisexual triangle in which Bob, a young London artist, is having simultaneous affairs with Daniel, a middle-aged homosexual doctor, and Alex, a divorcee in her thirties who works as an employment counselor.
In The Hospital the screenwriter – director team of Paddy Chayefsky and Arthur Hiller does for modern medicine what it did for war heroism in The Americanization of Emily: They set out to score cheap, quasi-satiric points off a target so large and helpless that one is almost inclined to take pity on it, and fail even on their own cowardly terms.
Volker Schlöndorff’s Young Törless, which shared the FIPRESCI (International Critics) Prize at the 1966 Cannes Film Festival with Resnais’ La guerre est finie, has finally arrived here, and it emerges as a strange, hypnotic work with deep implications.
Every chronicle play is a reduction of history. In a great chronicle play, this reduction means compression of events, intensity, selection — an artistic vision of history; Marlowe’s Edward II concentrates 24 years (1307-1330) into five credible acts. The Lion in Winter is another sort of reduction: It diminishes a struggle for the English crown into situation comedy.
The Go-Between (1971, Columbia) is the third film Joseph Losey has directed from a Harold Pinter script. Its virtues and defects are so much those of the first two (The Servant, 1963, and Accident, 1967) that Pauline Kael’s judgment on Accident fits — “a fascinating, rather preposterous movie, uneven, unsatisfying, but with virtuoso passages of calculated meanness.”