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Inside Daisy Clover (1965) [PG] ***

A film review by Randy Miller III for blu-ray.com on July 4, 2020.

Movies about Hollywood's dark underbelly were nothing new by 1965, but Inside Daisy Clover explores the subject through a young woman who's quite literally pulled off the streets to be the next big thing. Former child star Natalie Wood portrays Daisy Clover, who lives with her mom near the Santa Monica Pier and may just be the least convincing 15-year-old ever portrayed on film. She ekes out a living selling fake autographs but loves singing, and is surprised to learn that the head of a major studio, Raymond Swan (Christopher Plummer), is interested in a demo record she sent. After a limo ride to Swan Studios, the young tomboy is caught off guard by his cold and uncaring demeanor: Raymond tears her down while promising to deliver Hollywood's new rising star to the unsuspecting masses. She's charmed by fellow studio actor Wade Lewis (Robert Redford) and they develop a whirlwind romance, which ends up doubling as a microcosm of her brief time in the spotlight: it's very exciting, a little scary, and doesn't end well.

It sounds compelling enough on paper, but Inside Daisy Clover is a clear case of a film whose execution doesn't quite measure up to its ambition. Very little seems wrong at first glance: Wood acquits herself nicely (except for that age discrepancy -- though still youthful, she was close to thirty during production), there are a number of genuine twists and turns, and the supporting performances by Plummer and Redford are great. Other small parts, such as Raymond's wife Melora (Katharine Bard) and Daisy's soon-to-be-estranged mother Lucile (Ruth Gordon) are filled out nicely too. The biggest problems lie with Inside Daisy Clover's structure and a lack of ability to sell its own material: Wood's character is never all that convincing as the next big thing, nor is her rise to fame ever shown from a public perspective. The extremely insular nature of her journey ends up working against it, keeping outsiders at arm's length while never making a believable sales pitch. Even Daisy's trademark song, which is repeated ad nauseum, is forgettable... and to make matters worse, all of Wood's original vocals were re-recorded by singer Jackie Robin Ward.

Of course, that's not to say that Inside Daisy Clover is without merit... even aside from a few highlights mentioned above, most of which are related to the lead and supporting performances. Any and all scenes between Wood and Redford are easily among the film's best, as they seem to best capture that perfect balance of excitement mixed with a little bit of uneasiness. André Previn's original score and Charles Lang's cinematography are both excellent, often working double duty to capture the atmosphere of 1930s Santa Monica and the surrounding area. For these reasons, the film also serves as an invaluable time capsule: even though many parts are made up to reflect that earlier decade in which Inside Daisy Clover takes place, there's an undeniable charm to the signage, store fronts, and much quieter atmosphere that seem to evoke the 1960s as well. Those with Californian roots may enjoy the film for that reason alone. But aside from die-hard fans of the cast and setting, this one's tough to recommend sight unseen.

Labels: drama, music, Robert Redford, romance
IMDb 61/100
RottenTomatoes Averages (critics=31, viewers=68)
Blu-ray

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A Man and a Woman ( Un homme et une femme) (1966) [NR] ****/*****

On the 2003 DVD release of A Man and a Woman, there is an interview with writer / director Claude Lelouch 37 Years Later with Claude Lelouch, in which he looks back and talks about how the film came to be.

He had just finished making Les Grands Moments and could not show the film because he did not have a distributor. He was broke and his film company was close to bankruptcy. So he did what he often did, which was to get in his car and drive to the beach - from Paris to Deauville on the Normandy coast. He arrived around 2 am, slept in his car and awoke around 6:30 am to see a woman walking on the beach with a child and a dog.

In that moment he had the inspiration for the film A Man and a Woman. Over the next four weeks he wrote the screenplay, having in mind Jean-Louis Trintignant to play Jean-Louis Duroc. When he showed the screenplay to Jean-Louis, he said yes immediately. Then Lelouch said that he had both Romy Schneider and Anouk Aimee (Anouk Aimée) in mind to play Anne Gauthier, and he asked Jean-Louis who his dream woman would be. Jean-Louis said he knew Anouk very well and Claude should just call her up. At first there was a little difficulty because Anouk did not like boats, so she did not want to do the boat scenes, but she finally gave in.

Lelouch shot the film over a period of four weeks, using a rented hand-held camera, and edited it in three weeks. He had intended to shoot it all in black and white because he could not afford color, but an American distributor bought the rights in the U.S. so Lelouch was able to shoot the exteriors in color and the interiors in black and white.

There are some interesting aspects to Lelouch's filmmaking style, particularly A Man and a Woman. He had a screenplay but did not let the actors read the dialogue. He described the scene beforehand, and if there was a particular sentence he wanted said, he would mention that, but, other than that, he let the actors improvise. Also, what he told Jean-Louis was not the same thing he told Anouk. He never rehearsed because he believed that after the first or second take, the spontaneity would be gone. Also, Lelouch did all the filming himself because it eliminated the natural time delay in telling the cinematographer what he wanted.

Sometimes he would play Francis Lai's score for the actors before the scene, especially if he couldn't find the right words to say to direct them. Also, after the scene was finished he would play the dialogue back for the actors so they could all get a feeling for how it was going.

Lelouch said that he was fascinated by people, that the human interraction was the important thing, and that was why he tried to shoot the film in real time, without rehearsals and very few takes. At some point the actors were living the story, which made the film as close to the truth as possible.

Interestingly, the rented camera was not soundproofed, so they would wrap it in a blanket for close-ups, but relied a lot on distance shots using a telephoto lens. This is why the film has the look that it does.

So, what about the story? Anne was a film script girl who met and married her husband Pierre (Pierre Barouh) on a project in which he was working as a stunt man. They had a child, a little girl named Françoise, and then Pierre was killed while filming a battlefield scene in a WWII film. To be able to continue working, Anne enrolled her little girl in a boarding school in Deauville.

Jean-Louis was a race car test driver for Ford, testing the new GT40 LeMans car and the Ford Formula 1 car. In a flashback we see him racing at LeMans, being involved in a horrific accident, undergoing a three-hour operation and then having his grief-stricken wife Valerie (Valerie Lagrange) take her own life at the hospital. And so, after that, Jean-Louis put his young son Antoine in the same Deauville boarding school. And Anne and Jean-Louis eventually meet at the boarding school when she misses her train back to Paris and the school headmistress (Simone Paris) introduces them.

It really is a very simple love story, the main complication being that Anne was very much in love with her husband Pierre, and, even though he had died, he was still alive for her. So she could not be present while she and Jean-Louis were making love in their Deauville hotel room, and even at the end of the film, we are not sure if she will be able to move forward.

In an interesting footnote, the film was shot between November, 1965 and January, 1966. Anouk Aimee and Pierre Barouh fell in love during filming, married three months later, on April 20, 1966, and divorced three years later, on March 17, 1969. 

For myself, this is almost a coming-of-age film. I was born in 1942, spent time in Paris in the summer of 1965, just before this was filmed, and appreciate the honesty and integrity with which the film was made.  

Labels: drama, romance, Paris, Sixties
IMDb 75/100
RottenTomatoes Averages (critics=75, viewers=84)
DVD

Christmas in Vienna (2020) [PG] ****

A film review by Esme Mazzeo for telltaletv.co on Nov. 14, 2020.

 

Christmas In Vienna: A Sweet Enough Heart Song

As perhaps is expected, Hallmark’s Christmas In Vienna borrows its basic premise from 1965’s classic film The Sound Of Music, which was also set (and partially filmed) in Austria.

Jess is supposed to be a violinist struggling to find her love for music, and preparing to say goodbye to it, with a visiting performance on Christmas Eve at the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra. But within the first two minutes of the film, she has a line that tells us that she doesn’t have much of a journey to go on at all. When asked if music is her life she says: It's hard for me to describe what music means to me. It allows me to live in this magical world of my creation that exists beyond my own. Of course, she’s not going to tell anyone at the orchestra that she’s thinking of retiring, but she’s not being facetious when speaking about her passion for the violin.

We know that every holiday movie ever made has a happy ending with minimal angst. However, to capture our hearts the lead character has to go through a significant change. Jess saying she loves music is a signal to us, even unconsciously, that Jess’s journey is not as prominent as Mark (Brennan Elliott) and his kids. It’s a shame because part of the magic of Hallmark Christmas movies is watching a female-focused journey.

That’s not to say that Christmas In Vienna isn’t a female-led film. Sarah Drew is a necessary component in turning mundane moments magical where possible. Jess’s individual connections with each of the three kids she plays nanny to for a week are special in their own way. It’s particularly touching to watch her help Julian find a sense of home.

There is something sad about watching a young man study a language so intently in a desperate attempt to belong somewhere. It’s sweet to watch Jess try to understand Julian and make sure he always has a place to hang his hat. His dad, Mark, definitely doesn’t for most of the movie. Mark may be a good father, but he’s also incredibly self-centered and annoying. It’s fun to watch Jess put him in his place, especially during the passive-aggressive scene at the breakfast table the morning after he explicitly solicits her opinion, and dares get angry when she gives it.

Also, it’s 2020, can we do away with the plot where the white male must consider leaving a very impressive job for an extremely impressive one, and a woman has to remind him that his kids are humans with feelings he should consider?

As a matter of fact, Christmas In Vienna might benefit if the lead roles were gender-swapped. As it stands, Jess would be a good best friend to have. I particularly relate to her line about just living her life and hoping a man will magically appear. Plus, we share an insatiable sweet tooth. Plus, her talent for finding the perfect meaningful gift for everyone is also impressive and endearing.

Opposites might attract, but Jess deserves someone more exciting than Mark. Sarah Drew and Brennan Elliott have just enough chemistry to carry the film, but it’s nothing we can feel through the screen. The scene where Jess and Mark dance to Silent Night in plain clothes at night because Mark gets over his aversion to dancing for her is as close to perfect as Christmas In Vienna gets. I also like that they subtly break the fourth wall a couple of times by telling us, and each other, that they should kiss after a couple of their romantic moments. But gender-swapping would be interesting where their emotional intimacy is concerned, too. Jess would have a richer journey if she were the one who had walls that needed breaking down. Instead, Mark has a more intense promotion drama and emotional journey. (It barely exists but it’s there).

Jess even shares the only big concert moment we see on-screen with the Olson family. It’s very sweet. But even though Jess’s love magically appears in her life and she also magically gets a dream job at the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra; the best thing Vienna offers her is the chocolate cake and the Olson kids.

Christmas In Vienna airs throughout the holiday season on Hallmark Channel.

Labels: Christmas, drama, family, Hallmark, romance
IMDb 64/100 
RottenTomatoes Averages (tbd=critics, 64=viewers)
Amazon DVD
Esme Mazzeo full review

Now, Voyager (1942) [G] ****

A film review by David Cornelius for DVDTalk.com on Mar. 26, 2010.

Bette Davis earned yet another Oscar nod for her role in Now, Voyager, and it's easy to see why: here is yet another of those movies where the dowdy loner transforms into a radiant beauty, but Davis makes certain that we believe her completely as the ugly duckling. There's some makeup trickery there, to be sure, but it's mostly in her rich performance, a matter of attitude that slowly reveals the looker underneath - and even then, Davis maintains an uncertainty that suggests the new look is merely cosmetic, not deep enough to reach her true personality.

Around this stunning role is built a rather ridiculous story: Davis plays a spinster raised under the heavy thumb of an oppressive mother (Gladys Cooper). With the help of psychiatrist Claude Rains, she manages to escape her mother's grasp and reinvents herself, meeting the charming Paul Henreid on a cruise.

But he is married, and for an ordinary film, this would be enough. In fact, it's already plenty. But the script keeps going and going, and soon Davis becomes something of a nurse to Henreid's dowdy daughter (Janis Wilson), perhaps hoping to rescue the girl before the girl's life turns out like her own - although Henreid doesn't know it.

It's all far more complicated than it needs to be, and at two hours, the story could stand a trim or two. Then again, what would you cut? The soap opera of the opening scenes sets the stage for all that follows, and what follows is lovely enough that we can't stand to lose it. The film is most famous for the scene where Henreid lights two cigarettes at once, but more engaging are the moments between Bette Davis and Janis Wilson, two broken girls coming out of their shells together.

Labels: drama, period, romance
IMDb 78/100 
MetaScore (critics=70, viewers=67) 
RottenTomatoes Averages (critics=91, viewers=86)
Blu-ray

This Property is Condemned (1966) [NR] ****

A film review by Glenn Erickson for dvdtalk.com.

Adapted from one of his less well-known plays, This Property is Condemned should have been titled Tennessee Williams' Greatest Hits. It's all there, the depression setting with crude men circling like dixie moths around an oversexed child-woman undergoing the spiritual crisis of losing her dignity to 'the kindness of strangers.'

In glorious Technicolor and shaped as a star vehicle for the ultra-glamorous Natalie Wood, the basically trashy little story is bent all out of shape. Interesting casting makes it fun to watch and it stands as a good example of Hollywood trying to push the limits of the production code, but overall the film fails - we've seen it all before, and the fancy trimmings just make it look more fake than it is.

Railroad agent Owen Legate (Robert Redford) comes to the small town of Dodson Mississippi to lay off most of its railroad employees, many of whom live and carouse at the boarding house of Hazel Starr (Kate Reid). Owen grows fond of Hazel's younger daughter Willie (Mary Badham) but falls in love with her older sister Alva (Natalie Wood) a vivacious beauty. But the wicked Hazel exploits Alva for the men she attracts, and Alva's already on the way to being considered a loose woman - at age seventeen.

Depression Mississippi never looked so good. James Wong Howe's color is breathtaking and the grimy depression folk look like glamorous movie stars, well, at least when they're impersonated by Natalie Wood and Robert Redford. Paramount's art department makes sure that every period detail smack us right on the nose, even though hairstyles and costumes go to pot as soon as Alva Starr hits the streets of New Orleans. 

The familiar story and the overall Hollywood glitz are what do in This Property is Condemned, not the acting. Alva Starr needs to be a ravishing young thing like Natalie Wood to raise all the excitement the story demands. If only her makeup and hairstyles were keyed to the story instead of the requirements of her star image.

Robert Redford had about the slowest and least exciting career arcs of any young 60s actor. In both this film and the same year's commercially disastrous The Chase he comes in for some physical punishment. Yet he's still an inexpressive pretty face - whenever he reacts in dumb shock to some real or imagined offense by Alva, we have to wait for his next dialogue to find out how he really feels. Redford only came into his own in later pictures like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, where he was permitted to be funny too.

Even the greasy grotesques that surround Redford are Hollywood off-the-shelf types. Charles Bronson is good, but his role as a crude working man uses his physical type in the same way he was shoehorned as an Indian a decade before. Robert Blake is an unappealing crybaby. The fat cat who just wants 'a few weeks of Alva's kindness' is the anonymous-looking but shuddersome John Harding, and is much more successful for being an unfamiliar face.

The best thing in the picture is Kate Reid as Hazel, Alva's manipulative mother who literally tries to prostitute her own daughter. It's an extreme character and it takes a talent like Reid to make it work; once again it's the actress's unfamiliarity that allows us to believe in her.

The production bends over backwards to make everything pretty. The locations may be authentic but the atmosphere is not. In his second film, director Sydney Pollack might not have carried the weight to wrest the film from powerful Paramount craft departments, or perhaps this is producer Ray Stark's idea of how to make a movie. Co-producer John Houseman is associated with great films, many of them commercial failures, but there's little of his dark literary undercurrents on display here.

What we have is a big dose of Hollywood gloss. The effort to be daring within the limits of the production code makes every peek-a-boo glimpse of Natalie's body seem forced and silly. There's a chaste skinny-dipping scene and chaste opportunities for Natalie to get nude for dialogues with Reid and Redford. By the time Redford charges into her shower, it's just ridiculous. The movie is too glamorous and Wood too regal a star to profit from naturalistic touches like partial nudity which only emphasizes what the film cannot show rather than what it could show. Hollywood directors demanded the freedom to have adult material in films, and the MPAA finally gave them Valenti and the ratings system.

This Property is Condemned is a casualty of the transition period when tame racy pictures carried the disclaimer Intended for Mature Audiences. The odd thing is that Ms. Wood wouldn't have done nude scenes anyway. One of the last of the real studio-grown stars, she was no exhibitionist and didn't need the exposure to get attention. Interestingly, after a couple of more films and reasonable success with the dated Bob and Carol and Ted and Alice, she stopped showing up on theater screens.

This Property is Condemned is also noted for Francis Ford Coppola's leap into studio writing. He went right from Roger Corman's stable of talent to script doctoring for pictures like this one, and discerning his input isn't easy. Something's off in this picture, for just when it looks like it's over, with a pullback helicopter shot and everything, the locale changes to the big city and the story lumbers on for another twenty minutes of false conclusions. We don't want to see Alva become a prostitute, or Charles Bronson come busting back in for revenge and kill somebody. Even though neither of those things happen, what does happen isn't very satisfying.

Nobody should take credit for the awkward framing device with little sister Mary Badham walking the railroad tracks wearing Natalie's dress and singing her old song. She isn't half as convincing as she was in To Kill a Mockingbird and the construction is an obvious bore: See that old house ... it all happened right there. If This Property is Condemned was more or less ignored by audiences, it was because they'd seen it all before.

---

Paramount's DVD of This Property is Condemned has nothing to be ashamed of - the DVD looks great and sports colors that pop like real Technicolor. James Wong Howe's showoff images, such as the beautiful shot of Alva blowing out her birthday candles, will certainly please Natalie Wood's fans. The Audio is as solid as the picture. There are no extras.

Labels: drama, Robert Redford, romance, tragedy
IMDb 70/100
RottenTomatoes Averages (critics=62, viewers=76)
Blu-ray
Original Glenn Erickson review

 

My Oxford Year (2025) [PG-13] ***

 An edited film review by Courtney Howard for Variety on Aug. 1, 2025.

My Oxford Year review: Sofia Carson learns lessons of the heart in Netflix's disheartening weepie

While studying at Oxford, an ambitious American has her pursuits upended after meeting a charming British cad in a mediocre offering that often defies logic in favor of contrived poignancy.

Seconds after the opening credits of My Oxford Year have discreetly scrolled across the screen, our happy heroine strolls the streets surrounding the titular British institution and is haphazardly doused by a massive puddle thanks to a classic 1960s-era Jaguar E-Type driven by her soon-to-be paramour. This klutzy comedic moment endemic to the rom-com genre unfortunately doubles as a fitting metaphor for the viewing audience, as the ensuing shenanigans make us feel pelted by that same gutter water time and time again. What should be a tender, feminist-minded story centered on a young woman rediscovering her dormant childhood dreamer turns into a middling melodrama about being with a cute guy in desperate need of her rescue.

Anna de la Vega (Sofia Carson) has been fantasizing about attending Oxford University since she was 10 years old, cracking open a dusty old book of poetry for the first time. Even before her face appears on camera and the narration reiterates what’s already been shown, it’s clear that this Type A personality has built her entire world around this milestone adventure (reinforced by meticulously curated context clues, which include dog-eared copies of Austen, Fitzgerald and Brontë’s works, as well as a diploma from Cornell and other framed honors). Anna’s plan is to defer her post-graduate financial analyst gig at Goldman Sachs for a year to study Victorian poetry under the tutelage of her personal hero Professor Styan (Barunka O’Shaughnessy) and then return to the States to make her mom (Romina Cocca) and dad (Yadier Fernández) proud by getting a job in finance.

However, Anna’s plans are quickly dashed upon meeting hunky, wealthy local playboy Jamie Davenport (Corey Mylchreest). Their chance, embarrassingly adorable meet-cute in a fish-and-chips shop leads to fate pushing them together again in the classroom when Jamie takes over teaching duties on the first day. Flirtatious hijinks ensue, such as singing pub karaoke, eating at a kebab food truck and playing unhealthy jealousy games involving leggy redhead Cecelia Knowles (Poppy Gilbert) and oblivious dweeb Ridley (Hugh Coles). They inevitably give in to their lustful feelings. But when the pair begin to realize their casual love affair is far more meaningful than a fling, complications and hard, hidden truths bubble to the surface that affect both of their futures.

The execution by director Iain Morris (The Inbetweeners) and writers Allison Burnett and Melissa Osborne (adapting Julia Whelan’s novel) is subpar, both in their character construction and narrative twists and turns. Unless it’s blatantly stated, we rarely get the sense Anna values practicality and financial success over indulging her romantic whimsy. All we see is her swooning over sentimentality. It’s not far-fetched to wonder how she compartmentalizes pragmatism and passion, allowing her ambitious drive to take a back seat to love. The filmmakers had ample opportunity to establish and better integrate Anna’s inner push-pull as a first-generation American daughter of immigrants, searching for a balance between her heart’s desires and her parents’ wishes for success, yet they falter. Instead, they handwave that aspect.

Rather than exploring Anna’s complex conundrums after she acclimates to her new digs (with lame fish-out-of-water gags galore) and starts sleeping with Jamie, they allow his conflicts to take over the film, eclipsing her struggles and dwarfing her significance in her quest. His familial strife dealing with his disapproving father William (Dougray Scott) and denial-riddled mother Antonia (Catherine McCormack) is given priority around the midpoint and doesn’t let up until the finale. There’s a predictable outcome as well, made worse by contrivances where circumstances are problems until they’re magically not, lacking satisfying emotional resolution. Anna puts herself in a subordinate role as a tool used to mend Jamie’s family’s fissures, allowing him to experience a greater arc than her own.

While its story holds much to be desired, the film’s technical craftsmanship earns higher marks. Pacing picks up in tangible energy and vibrancy within editors Victoria Boydell and Kristina Hetherington’s montages. The upbeat effervescence of Anna and Jamie’s trysts are endearingly bubbly in their hands. With its punch of Isabella Summers’ swelling, swirling score and a flurry of sharp cuts, toggling between fantasy and reality, their final montage’s end note is surprisingly effective, radiating beyond the end credits. Cinematographer Remi Adefarasin’s diffuse lighting during enchanting sequences brings a soft warmth, though the film’s overall flat, shallow focus is made a glaring issue at the start when clips from Oxford Blues play, emphasizing how cinematic films looked in the 1980s compared to the current digital era.

A love story only works if audiences care about the couple, and despite the aforementioned shortcomings, Carson and Mylchreest elevate the material. They have great chemistry together, conducting heat and sparks for necessary rootable interest. Both deliver genuinely open-hearted performances. As seen mere months ago in her previous Netflix romantic-dramedy The Life List, Carson is adept at making sarcasm and sorrow resonate, finding nuance and strength in vulnerability. When it comes to the supporting players, Harry Trevaldwyn is a true highlight as Anna’s gay neighbor/ classmate Charlie Butler. His attention-grabbing performance recalls Rhys Ifans in Notting Hill, stealing the show as the comedic relief best exemplified in a scene where he goes on a riff about his elaborate vision of his death.

Everything that Me Before You (2016, Emilia Clarke, Sam Claflin) does right, My Oxford Year manages to do wrong, from its heroine’s journey toward enlightenment to basic fundamentals dealing with character motivations. Our hopes for a thoughtful rumination on the messy bits of life making up the best parts of us deflates into a mess as the filmmakers continually forget their female protagonist should remain at the center of its universe. [Howard's rating: 2 stars out of 5 = 40%]

Labels: college, comedy, drama, romance, tragedy
IMDb 59/100 
MetaScore (critics=39, viewers=51) 
RottenTomatoes (critics=30, viewers=52) 
Courtney Howard's review

The Great Waldo Pepper (1975) [PG] ****

A film review by Roger Ebert on January 1, 1975

Waldo Pepper is, as he admits with a shy smile, the second greatest flier in the world. The greatest is Ernst Kessler, the German ace who shot down 70 foes in World War I. But that was more than a decade ago, and now Kessler, as much as Pepper, is reduced to peddling $5 plane rides and doing stunt flying during the last years of barnstorming. The pay isn’t good, but the work is lousy: I’m not selling good flying, explains the proprietor of Dillhoefer’s Air Circus. I’m selling sudden death.

Even so, the air circus at times finds itself performing before groups of half a dozen agape schoolboys. The days when pilots could land on Main Street are over; the airlines and the air mail are established; the government wants to regulate flying and give it an image of greater safety. The world is closing in on Waldo Pepper. And, as played by Robert Redford, he hardly knows it: He’s a simple, brave, boyish soul who is loyal to his friends and who dreams of being the first man to perform the dangerous outside loop.

The Great Waldo Pepper is a film of charm and excitement, a sort of bittersweet farewell to a time when a man with an airplane could make a living taking the citizens of Nebraska on their first five minute flights. It doesn’t have any big notions about the passing of that era, or of the barnstormers, who are seen as overgrown kids with wonderful toys that fly. But it has a good feeling for the period, and director George Roy Hill gives us poignancy and adventure.

The adventures are especially spectacular. Hill doesn’t cheat in the stuntflying sequences, which include unfaked footage of a biplane flying down a village street with a few feet of clearance and a petrified heroine clinging to one wing. This stunt sets up the trickiest scene in the film, when the heroine (Susan Saradon) freezes with fright and the great Waldo flies up in another airplane, climbs out on a wing, transfers to the first plane, walks out to the girl and attempts to pull her to safety.

If Waldo were able to do that five days a week, he might be able to earn a living. For the time has passed, alas, when the good citizens of Nebraska will pay to see ordinary stunts. As a plane flies past the stands with Waldo standing on the wing, a member of the audience observes: “Fellow came through here last week doing that standing on his head. Waldo’s best hope is that his friend and designer, Ezra Stiles (Edward Herrmann), will be able to perfect a monoplane with strong enough wings to do the outside loop. And alarming rumors float westward that the legendary Kessler (Bo Brundin) also hopes to be the first with that trick.

Kessler is successful, after developments I’d better not give away, but then both Kessler and Pepper find themselves in Hollywood doing stunt flying for a living. Kessler’s heroics in a famous World War I dogfight (which have deeply impressed Waldo) are now just the stuff for a potboiler movie, with Kessler flying his own stunts but a fatuous young actor playing him. And then Kessler and Pepper square off in the skies for a recreation of that famous battle, and somehow it becomes real…. [Ebert's rating: 3 stars out of 4]

Blogger's comment: This is a terribly underappreciated film, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. Discerning viewers will note Redford's brief arcade baseball throwing scene nine years before he does it in The Natural (1984), and, of course, his flying, ten years before Out of Africa (1985).

Labels: action, adventure, drama, Robert Redford
IMDb 67/100 
MetaScore (critics=60, viewers=tbd) 
RottenTomatoes Averages (critics=62, viewers=70) 
Blu-ray 

Laura (1944) *****

A film review by Roger Ebert on January 20, 2002.

I’ve seen Otto Preminger‘s Laura three or four times, but the identity of the murderer doesn’t spring quickly to mind. That’s not because the guilty person is forgettable but because the identity is so arbitrary: It is not necessary that the murderer be the murderer. Three or four other characters would have done as well, and indeed if it were not for Walter Winchell we would have another ending altogether. More about that later.

Film noir is known for its convoluted plots and arbitrary twists, but even in a genre that gave us The Maltese Falcon, this takes some kind of prize. Laura (1944) has a detective who never goes to the station [and drinks while he is on duty]; a suspect who is invited to tag along as other suspects are interrogated; a heroine who is dead for most of the film; a man insanely jealous of a woman even though he never for a moment seems heterosexual; a romantic lead who is a dull-witted Kentucky bumpkin moving in Manhattan penthouse society, and a murder weapon that is returned to its hiding place by the cop, who will come by for it in the morning. The only nude scene involves the jealous man and the cop.

That Laura continues to weave a spell — and it does — is a tribute to style over sanity. No doubt the famous musical theme by David Raksin has something to do with it: The music lends a haunted, nostalgic, regretful cast to everything it plays under, and it plays under a lot. There is also Clifton Webb’s narration, measured, precise, a little mad: I shall never forget the weekend Laura died. A silver sun burned through the sky like a huge magnifying glass. It was the hottest Sunday in my recollection. I felt as if I were the only human being left in New York. For Laura’s horrible death, I was alone. I, Waldo Lydecker, was the only one who really knew her.

It is Clifton Webb’s performance as Waldo Lydecker that stands at the heart of the film, with Vincent Price, as Laura’s fiancee Shelby Carpenter, nibbling at the edges like an eager spaniel. Both actors, and Judith Anderson as a neurotic friend, create characters who have no reality except their own, which is good enough for them. The hero and heroine, on the other hand, are cardboard. Gene Tierney, as Laura, is gorgeous, has perfect features, looks great in the stills, but never seems emotionally involved; her work in Leave Her to Heaven (1945) is stronger, deeper, more convincing. Dana Andrews, as Detective Mark McPherson, stands straight, chain-smokes, speaks in a monotone, and reminded the studio head Daryl F. Zanuck of an agreeable schoolboy. As actors, Tierney and Andrews basically play eyewitnesses to scene-stealing by Webb and Price.

This was Clifton Webb’s first big starring role and his first movie role of any kind since 1930. He was a stage actor who refused the studio’s demand for a screen test; Otto Preminger, who began by producing the film and ended by directing it, in desperation filmed Webb on a Broadway stage and showed that to Zanuck. He doesn’t walk, he flies, an underling told Zanuck, but Webb, who had a mannered camp style, impressed Zanuck and got the role. Vincent Price creates an accent somewhere between Kentucky and Transylvania for his character, who is tall and healthy and inspires Waldo Lydecker to complain to Laura: With you, a lean strong body is the measure of a man.

Lydecker is lean but not strong. Webb was 55 when he played the role, Tierney 24. A similar age difference was no problem for Bogart and Bacall, but between Webb and Tierney it must be said there is not the slightest suggestion of chemistry. He is a bachelor critic and columnist (said to be modeled after Alexander Wolcott), and the first time we see him he is sitting in his bathtub, typing. This is after Laura’s body has been found murdered with shotgun blasts, and the detective comes to question her closest friend.

The scene develops with more undercurrents than surface, as McPherson enters the bathroom, glances at Lydecker, seems faintly amused. Then Lydecker swings the typewriter shelf away, so that it shields his nudity from the camera but not from the detective. Waldo stands up, off screen, and a reaction shot shows McPherson glancing down as Lydecker asks him to pass a bathrobe. Every time I see the movie, I wonder what Preminger is trying to accomplish with this scene. There is no suggestion that Lydecker is attracted to McPherson, and yet it seems odd to greet a police detective in the nude.

Lydecker is Laura’s Svengali. In flashbacks, we follow the progress of their relationship. He snubs her in the Algonquin dining room, then apologizes, becomes her friend, and takes over her life, chooses her clothes, redoes her hair, introduces her to the right people, promotes her in his column. They spend every night together out on the town, except Tuesdays and Fridays, when Waldo cooks for her at home. Then other men enter the picture, and leave again as Waldo blasts them in his column. Big, dumb Shelby with his lean, strong body is the latest and most serious threat. Considering this Waldo-Shelby-Laura love triangle, it occurs to me that the only way to make it psychologically sound would be to change Laura into a boy.

The movie basically consists of well-dressed rich people standing in luxury flats and talking to a cop. The passion is unevenly distributed. Shelby and Laura never seem to have much heat between them. Waldo is possessive of Laura, but never touches her. Ann Treadwell (Anderson), a society dame, lusts for Shelby but has to tell him or he’d never know. And Detective McPherson develops a crush on the dead woman. There is an extraordinary scene where he enters her apartment at night, looks through her letters, touches her dresses, sniffs her perfume, pours himself a drink from her bottle and sits down beneath her enormous portrait, which is placed immodestly above her own fireplace. It’s like a date with a ghost.

McPherson’s investigation and his ultimate revelations are handled in an offhand way, for a 1940s crime picture. He is forever leading people to believe they’re going to be charged, and then backing off. Lydecker asks to tag along as the cop interviews suspects; murder is his favorite crime, and I like to study their reactions. Astonishingly, McPherson lets him. This is useful from a screenplay point of view, since otherwise McPherson would be mostly alone.

All of these absurdities and improbabilities somehow do not diminish the film’s appeal. They may even add to it. Some of the lines have become unintentionally funny, James Naremore writes in More than Night: Film Noir in its Contexts,Where ‘Laura’ is concerned, the camp effect is at least partly intended – any movie that puts Clifton Webb, Judith Anderson and Vincent Price in the same drawing room is inviting a mood of fey theatricality [a flamboyant, affected, and sometimes deliberately campy style of performance].

The story of Preminger’s struggle to get the movie made has become Hollywood legend. As he tells it in his autobiography, Zanuck saw him as a producer, not a director, and assigned Rouben Mamoulian to the piece. When the early rushes were a disaster, Preminger stepped in, reshot many scenes, replaced the sets, and fought for the screenplay. Zanuck insisted that another ending be shot; the film was screened for Zanuck and his pal Walter Winchell, a real gossip columnist, who said he didn’t understand the ending. So Zanuck let Preminger have his ending back, and while the business involving the shotgun in the antique clock may be somewhat labored, the whole film is of a piece: contrived, artificial, mannered, and yet achieving a kind of perfection in its balance between low motives and high style. What makes the movie great, perhaps, is the casting. The materials of a B-grade crime potboiler are redeemed by Waldo Lydecker, walking through every scene as if afraid to step in something. [Ebert's rating: 4 out of 4 stars]

Labels: crime, drama, film-noir, mystery
IMDb 79/100 
RottenTomatoes (critics=100, viewers=84) 
Blu-ray 
Roger Ebert's original review 

The Thursday Murder Club (2025) [PG-13] ****

A film review by Jocelyn Noveck for AP on August 27, 2025.

First of all, is this really what retirement looks like?

If so, perhaps we should all sign up, no matter our age. In The Thursday Murder Club, an amiable, cozy, pleasantly entertaining adaptation of Richard Osman’s mystery novel, the lucky club members live in a retirement home that resembles Downton Abbey.

The food at this dreamy manor house nestled in the English countryside is scrumptious, with a choice of wines at lunch. The apartments are huge, the antiques tasteful, the archery and life-drawing classes top-notch. And the emotional support animals are llamas. Yes, llamas.

This is the setting, quaintly called Coopers Chase, in which four retirees, led by Helen Mirren in her no-nonsense plaid blazers, depart from yoga and Sudoku each week to consider cold cases. Old folks solving cases — and outthinking police — is nothing new in our popular culture. Let’s recall Murder, She Wrote, in which Angela Lansbury’s Jessica Fletcher solved cases in tiny Cabot Cove, Maine — where close to 300 murders somehow occurred during the show’s 12-year run.

The crime-busting seniors in The Thursday Murder Club, directed by Chris Columbus, are nowhere near that fortunate in terms of body count. But they approach their weekly meetings with gusto. Mirren’s Elizabeth has skills from a career in international affairs (smells like espionage). Pierce Brosnan’s Ron is former trade unionist, and Ben Kingsley’s Ibrahim a former psychiatrist. As we begin, the trio is considering a case from the ’70s in which a woman fell out a window under mysterious circumstances.

But they need medical expertise, and thus they recruit new resident Joyce (Celia Imrie), an expert baker and former trauma nurse. We meet her as she’s showing off the grounds to her haughty daughter, who manages a hedge fund and can’t eat Mom’s cakes because she’s perimenopausal. Everybody’s doing llamas these days, Mum, she says, unimpressed with the surroundings.

But Joyce is thrilled to join the club, and even more thrilled when, one morning, news comes that an actual murder has occurred — a co-owner of Coopers Chase, actually. Now we’ve got a real case to solve! she gushes, with Disco Inferno suddenly playing on the soundtrack (that’s a little much), as she pulls Ron from aqua aerobics for a meeting. Isn’t it wonderful!

But no, it isn’t all wonderful — the deceased had promised to protect the retirees from the plans of another co-owner to demolish the home and make an event space. The shady Ian Ventham (David Tennant) also intends to uproot the cemetery. Ron organizes a noisy protest. And then, yet another murder happens.

Naomi Ackie is appealing as a police officer who aches for exciting work, and Daniel Mays is very funny as her clueless boss. As for the plot – well, the rather dry storyline is not what brings pleasure here.

No, that pleasure is derived from seeing these veterans strut their stuff, foremost among them Mirren. (Kingsley, alas, gets almost no good lines). Her most delicious moment is a direct nod to her Oscar-winning role as a different Elizabeth. Heading out on an incognito mission with Joyce, she dons a silk headscarf, a comfy cardigan, a tartan skirt and a walking stick. You look like the Queen! notes her husband. Do I? she asks, cheekily.

But moments later, on the bus with Joyce, Elizabeth has a scene that rings false. Reading a text message, she asks her friend: What does WTF mean? Joyce explains, loudly, what it means, saying she learned it from her daughter. A young mother with a child nearby is shocked at the profanity. It’s all too cute by half. We’re supposed to believe razor-sharp Elizabeth doesn’t know what WTF means?

It’s a few moments like this that cause some discomfort, raising the question of whether these characters are being, well, caricatured. Columbus seems to acknowledge the issue with an exchange where Joyce tells Elizabeth that she feels like she’s in one of those Sunday night dramas about two bright-eyed, feisty, old lady detectives outsmarting the police at every turn. Annoyed, Elizabeth tells her never to utter the words again.

In any case, there’s a sadder undertone that provides some grounding here. Elizabeth’s husband — poignantly played by Jonathan Pryce — is in the early stages of dementia, a fact Elizabeth is keeping from him. He has his good days and his bad ones, she explains to a friend. Sometimes he’s his old self, and sometimes he’s just gone.

It’s a message that even if our main protagonists seem healthy and active, they’re at a stage in life where every day is a bit more precarious. Cherish the good moments, the friend tells Elizabeth.

It’s a good message, overall, for the movie. The script could certainly be sharper, the comedy more clever. But for two hours on Netflix, Coopers Chase is rather a comfy place to be, with some moments to cherish.

The Thursday Murder Club, a Netflix release, has been rated PG-13 by the Motion Picture Association for violent content/bloody images, strong language and some sexual references. Running time: 118 minutes. 2.5 stars out of 4 stars.

Labels: comedy, crime, mystery, thriller

IMDb 68/100 
MetaScore (critics=59, viewers=69) 
RottenTomatoes (critics=75, viewers=72) 
Noveck's review

The Magic of Ordinary Days (2005) [TV-PG] ****

The Magic of Ordinary Days (2005), directed by Brent Shields and adapted from Ann Howard Creel’s novel, is a tender, understated wartime drama that finds emotional richness in life’s quietest moments. Set against the backdrop of World War II, the film is not about battles or heroics in the traditional sense—it’s about the small, deeply human struggles of forgiveness, acceptance, and the unexpected ways love can take root.

Keri Russell plays Olivia Livy Dunne, a bright, intellectual young woman from Denver whose life is upended by an unplanned pregnancy. In a time when social shame and limited choices defined women’s futures, Livy’s father arranges a marriage of convenience to save face and provide stability. Her husband-to-be is Ray Singleton (Skeet Ulrich), a soft-spoken, kind-hearted farmer living in rural Colorado. Their union begins as a contract, not a romance—two strangers bound by circumstance rather than affection.

At first, Livy is distant, her mind still tied to the city, academia, and the man she once loved. Ray, however, offers her quiet patience rather than judgment. His way of life—steady, humble, anchored in the land—stands in contrast to everything Livy thought she wanted. Yet, slowly, the walls between them begin to erode. There are no dramatic declarations, just simple gestures: shared meals, long silences, and small kindnesses that reveal character and invite trust.

The film gains emotional resonance through its quiet restraint. Keri Russell’s performance is nuanced and deeply felt; she captures Livy’s inner conflict and gradual transformation with grace. Skeet Ulrich is equally affecting as Ray, whose strength lies not in grand words but in his quiet loyalty and deep compassion.

A particularly moving subplot involves Livy’s friendship with two Japanese-American sisters living in a nearby internment camp. Their presence introduces subtle but powerful commentary on racism, injustice, and what it means to live with dignity in the face of societal exclusion. Through these friendships, Livy begins to confront her own feelings of isolation and judgment, finding solidarity and strength in the experiences of others.

Visually, the film leans into its period setting with warm, earthy tones and a gentle pace that mirrors the rhythms of farm life. There’s a stillness to the cinematography that suits the story’s themes—transformation not through upheaval, but through small, meaningful moments.

In the end, The Magic of Ordinary Days is exactly what its title suggests: a celebration of the quiet, redemptive power of everyday life. It’s a story about how love can emerge slowly and unexpectedly, not always as passion, but as grace—the kind that turns hardship into healing and strangers into partners.

Soft-spoken, sincere, and emotionally grounded, this film is a reminder that sometimes the most extraordinary journeys happen in the most ordinary places.

Labels: drama, Hallmark, period
IMDb 75/100
RottenTomatoes Averages (critics=tbd, viewers=86)

Charlie Wilson's War (2007) [R] ****

A film review by James Berardinelli for ReelViews.net

It's a curious thing. Whenever this much talent is assembled for a motion picture, the result inevitably seems to be a letdown. And to say that Charlie Wilson's War is topheavy with talent is to understate the matter. The cast features three Oscar winners and two nominees. The director has been nominated five times and won once. The writer is a multiple Emmy winner. The cinematographer has a couple of Oscar nominations and the composer has six. Almost against the odds, however, Charlie Wilson's War does not collapse under the weight of expectations. In fact, it meets them squarely without flinching. With its rapid pace, smart screenplay, and top-notch acting, this is one of the 2007 Oscar season's most appealing and compelling adult motion pictures.

The screenplay, penned by veteran writer Aaron Sorkin, is based on George Crile's biography of Congressman Charlie Wilson, who is credited as being one of the architects of the United States' covert war against the USSR in Afghanistan. While the film takes liberties with some of the details, the broad strokes are accurate. It's fascinating to look back at the pre-Taliban era and see some of the factors that led to the country's becoming destabilized. While the Taliban is never mentioned (it did not come into power until some six years after the conclusion of the events in this movie), it casts a long shadow over events that unfold during Charlie Wilson's War. It is impossible to watch this movie without considering the natural progression of events after the Soviet retreat.

When the film begins, Charlie Wilson (Tom Hanks) is the Democratic Congressman from Texas' Second District. Known more for his love of parties and beautiful women, Good Time Charlie becomes aware of the situation in Afghanistan shortly after being named to the Defense Appropriations subcommittee in 1980. The budget for covertly opposing the USSR in Afghanistan at the time is $5 million. Charlie places a phone call and orders it doubled. But, as he learns from his friend, socialite and right wing mover-and-shaker Joanne Herring (Julia Roberts), that's not going to be enough. Charlie ends up on a whirlwind tour of Pakistan, where he meets the President (Om Puri) and walks through the refugee camps. He returns to Washington with renewed determination to open up the coffers and get the freedom fighters (Afghan Mujahideen) weapons that will enable them to bring down Soviet helicopters. With the aid of CIA operative Gust Avrakotos (Philip Seymour Hoffman), Charlie begins a campaign that eventually leads to the U.S. diverting more than $500 million of aid to Afghanistan.

Politically based stories of this sort run the risk of coming across as dry; that's not the case here. Director Mike Nichols keeps this fast-paced film moving and Sorkin peppers the screenplay with one-liners that vary from amusing to laugh-aloud funny. Charlie Wilson's War is justly classified as a drama, but someone could be excused for thinking it's a comedy. The film is more insightful, incisive, and intelligent than any of the many other current Middle East-themed motion pictures. Equally as important, it doesn't play politics with a loaded deck. This is not a repudiation of the totality of America's Afghanistan policy, although it makes it plain where the biggest error lay. Ironically, one could argue that the film's point validates aspects of the current Iraq strategy.

As the acting foundation of Charlie Wilson's War, Tom Hanks gives another fine performance, although it's not the kind of meaty role one normally associates with nominations. He shows fundamental changes to Charlie's nature as the man changes from a good ole boy (reminiscent of J.R. Ewing) to someone with a conscience. Hanks is perfect for the role. No matter how questionable a character's ethics, we always want to side with him if he's played by Hanks. That's currency in the emotional bank, and it works perfectly with Charlie: a disreputable individual who develops into something more. Philip Seymour Hoffman is the standout, shamelessly pilfering nearly every scene he's in, whether he's breaking glass, shouting at the top of his lungs, or uttering heartfelt profanities. If Hoffman gets nominated for his performance it's going to be deserved. Amy Adams, delightful as always, is Charlie's ever-faithful assistant. Ned Beatty plays Doc Long, the chairman of the Appropriations subcommittee. Emily Blunt shows up briefly and memorably. If there's a negative, it's Julia Roberts. Either she's miscast or her heart isn't into acting, but this is an example of plastic and ineffective acting. There's little here of the fire and passion that earned the actress a statuette for Erin Brockovich. It's a shame, but it doesn't hurt the movie too much - Roberts is only in a handful of scenes.

There's some interesting musical stuff going on as well. Composer James Newton-Howard has borrowed the He Shall Purify chorus from Handel's Messiah and put it to good use. This is perhaps the first time any song from the oratorio has been used as a battle anthem. One could argue that it simply fits the mood but, considering the words (He shall purify the sons of Levi, that they may offer unto the Lord an offering in righteousness) and the context in which the song is employed, there is a strong element of irony here. It's a pretty subtle thing so many viewers won't get it.

With so many movies working on auto-pilot, it's easy to forget the pleasure of a well-written screenplay, and even easier to forget how good things can be when a director of Mike Nichols' pedigree brings the script to life. The film has it all: suspense, drama, and humor. There's a brilliant scene in which Charlie is conferring with Gust and his aides keep interrupting with news about his involvement in a cocaine scandal. The deftness of timing necessary in this scene is the kind of thing that would have Charlie Chaplin smiling (as is the punch line, which involves a bottle of whiskey). Sorkin's screenplay is clean and crisp and not muddled by an overt political agenda (surprising, since Sorkin is openly political). From start to finish, Charlie Wilson's War is an unrelieved delight, and it works even better for those who understand the bridges that took us from the withdrawal of the Soviet Union from Afghanistan to 9/11 and beyond. [Berardinelli's rating: 3.5 stars out of 4]

Labels: biography, comedy, drama, history, Tom Hanks, war
IMDb 70/100 

MetaScore (critics=67, viewers=67)
RottenTomatoes Averages (critics=82, viewers=74)
Blu-ray 
Berardinelli's review 

 

Waterloo Bridge (1940) [NR] ****

A film review by Derek Winnert.

Director Mervyn LeRoy’s 1940 vintage black and white MGM romance Waterloo Bridge is a sweet, tear-jerking winner, although it cries out for Technicolor when Joseph Ruttenberg shoots it in black and white. Though Vivien Leigh wanted Laurence Olivier and not Robert Taylor as her co-star (It’s a typical piece of miscasting… I am afraid it will be a dreary job), she later stated this was the favorite of her films. So did Taylor.

Universal Pictures had hired James Whale to film the controversial material about a woman forced into prostitution in WWI in 1931 as Waterloo Bridge, starring Mae Clarke and Douglass Montgomery, but were unable to re-release the movie after the US Production Code was enforced in July 1934.

But in 1939 the MGM studio bought the rights to the 1930 Robert E Sherwood play from Universal and a year later, in 1940, MGM remakes the story as a partly updated, topical one, with a carefully smoothed-out plot about a London ballet dancer and the English upper-crust officer who is smitten with her after meeting by chance on Waterloo Bridge during an air raid.

The movie unfolds in an extended flashback narration as the officer revisits Waterloo Bridge in WWII London on his way to fight to France and recalls himself as a young man in WWI and meeting Myra, whom he had planned to marry.

Vivien Leigh (in her follow-up to 1939’s Gone with the Wind) is appealingly sweet and vulnerable as Myra Lester, the young woman who is fired from her corps de ballet job as a ballerina and falls into street-walking prostitution, believing her fiancé to be dead. However, Robert Taylor (unable to conceal his American accent) is less impressive, merely handsome and dashing as the officer, Roy Cronin.

The material is just as soppy and outmoded as before, but the plush, sumptuous MGM production and Leigh are extremely attractive and beguiling. And the piece is sleekly crafted by director LeRoy and producer Sidney Franklin and their team, helping to make it a big hit in its day, taking nearly $3 million (it cost $1,164,000). Today’s audiences may view it more skeptically, but it is still a classic of its kind.

Also in the cast are Lucile Watson, Virginia Field, Maria Ouspenskaya, C Aubrey Smith, Steffi Duna, Janet Shaw, Janet Waldo, Virginia Carroll, Leda Nicova, Florence Baker, Margery Manning, Frances MacInerney, Eleanor Stewart, Jimmy Aubrey.

Waterloo Bridge was Oscar nominated for Best Music and Best Cinematography. It is probably the first Hollywood film to have WWII in its story. The screenplay is by S N Behrman, Hans Rameau and George Froeschel, and the music score is by Herbert Stothart.

A third film version of Sherwood’s play, Gaby, followed in 1956, with Leslie Caron and John Kerr.

Blogger's comment: I found the story a little less appealing knowing Myra had become a prostitute after having lost her position with the corps de ballet, because she had chosen love rather than duty and had missed a ballet performance. Also, she could have reached out to Roy's mother, who had tried to befriend her, but did not. Finally, the British military uniforms were not authentic at all. 

While Waterloo Bridge may have been the first WWII romantic drama, there have been countless others. Four that come to mind, and links to their blog reviews are:

The Very Thought of You (1944) Eleanor Parker, Dennis Morgan
Yanks (1979) R. Gere, L. Eichhorn, W. Devane, V. Redgrave
Hanover Street (1979) Harrison Ford, Lesley-Anne Down
Every Time We Say Goodbye (1986) Tom Hanks, Cristina Marsillach


Labels: drama, romance, WWII, tragedy
IMDb 77/100
MetaScore (critics=73, viewers=72)
RottenTomatoes Averages (critics=83, viewers=82)
Blu-ray