Yesterday I saw Richard Jewell, starring Paul Walter Hauser and Sam Rockwell.
During the 1996 Olympics in Atlanta, a domestic terrorist detonated a bomb in Centennial Park that killed one person and injured over a hundred others. The reason there was not a larger loss of life was due solely to the actions of a security guard on duty that night, Richard Jewell (Hauser).
At first the media—and the world—celebrated Jewell as the hero he was. He was interviewed by dozens of prominent journalists to tell his story of that night and appeared as a sincere, thoughtful man.
Then, the FBI needed a fall guy, so they decided Jewell was the easiest target. A local newspaper reporter got wind of their suspicions and blew the story up, making Jewell's life a living hell and shifting resources away from finding the true bomber (Eric Rudolph, who was caught years later).
This film tells the story of what was happening behind the scenes to Jewell and his mother (who he lived with). The acting is superb; especially from Rockwell, who portrays the attorney who stood by Jewell and ultimately got him cleared.
Watching it will make you angry, sad and disappointed in the pack mentality that seems to run rampant in our country, but hopefully will restore the reputation of a hero some still mistakenly think was responsible for a horrible act.
Too bad Jewell himself is no longer alive to see it.
~~~
Showing posts with label Kathy Bates. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kathy Bates. Show all posts
Saturday, December 14, 2019
Monday, August 10, 2009
Cheri
Tonight I saw Cheri, starring Michelle Pfeiffer and Rupert Friend.
Prostitution never looked so good.
Lea (Pfeiffer) is an escort-to-the-stars in turn-of-the-century France. Her friend Charlotte (Kathy Bates) is past her prime and concerned more with the upbringing of her teenage son Chéri (Friend) than with establishing more clients. The only women they mingle with are those in their shared profession and competition seems absent from their tangles, as there are plenty of men to go around.
But Lea only wants one man—or boy, really. She wants Chéri, who has seduced her into letting him stay at her Normandy estate for a greedy length of time. She shows him the proper way around a bedroom, buys him lavish gifts, feeds him, clothes him, and probably bathes him. She is his lover, but she is also his surrogate mother.
When his real mother returns to collect him and marry him off to another teenager, Lea is devastated but retains her dignity. As the new young couple heads to Italy for a honeymoon, Lea escapes to a new home and leaves no forwarding address.
Both parties are miserable apart—Chéri's marriage, though faithful, is completely loveless, and Lea seems to take on another lover only to pass the time.
When they finally realize they can't happily live apart, it may be too late to do anything about it. Oh, the perils of true love.
As a fan of the book, I knew what the outcome would be and I dare say the film is much lighter and funnier than the original text. The lead couple is convincing and well-matched with Pfeiffer's sharp, mature features directly contrasting the feminine curves of Friend's. But the real scene-stealer is the always-phenomenal Kathy Bates, who lights up the screen for better or for worse with her spunky energy.
To break this film down to one word, I'd call it a "romp."
And a pleasurable one, for what it's worth.
~~~
Prostitution never looked so good.
Lea (Pfeiffer) is an escort-to-the-stars in turn-of-the-century France. Her friend Charlotte (Kathy Bates) is past her prime and concerned more with the upbringing of her teenage son Chéri (Friend) than with establishing more clients. The only women they mingle with are those in their shared profession and competition seems absent from their tangles, as there are plenty of men to go around.
But Lea only wants one man—or boy, really. She wants Chéri, who has seduced her into letting him stay at her Normandy estate for a greedy length of time. She shows him the proper way around a bedroom, buys him lavish gifts, feeds him, clothes him, and probably bathes him. She is his lover, but she is also his surrogate mother.
When his real mother returns to collect him and marry him off to another teenager, Lea is devastated but retains her dignity. As the new young couple heads to Italy for a honeymoon, Lea escapes to a new home and leaves no forwarding address.
Both parties are miserable apart—Chéri's marriage, though faithful, is completely loveless, and Lea seems to take on another lover only to pass the time.
When they finally realize they can't happily live apart, it may be too late to do anything about it. Oh, the perils of true love.
As a fan of the book, I knew what the outcome would be and I dare say the film is much lighter and funnier than the original text. The lead couple is convincing and well-matched with Pfeiffer's sharp, mature features directly contrasting the feminine curves of Friend's. But the real scene-stealer is the always-phenomenal Kathy Bates, who lights up the screen for better or for worse with her spunky energy.
To break this film down to one word, I'd call it a "romp."
And a pleasurable one, for what it's worth.
~~~
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)