Average Rating: 4.2/10
Reviews Counted: 17
Fresh: 7 | Rotten: 10
No consensus yet.
Average Rating: 3.9/10
Critic Reviews: 7
Fresh: 2 | Rotten: 5
No consensus yet.
Average Rating: 3.5/5
User Ratings: 2,156
Sybil Temtchine (Ten Benny, Passion of Ayn Rand) stars as a young woman who wakes up at dawn on the handprints and footprints of the famed Chinese Theatre in Hollywood with no idea who she or how she got there. Upon awakening, she wonders if she isn't, in fact, lost in a dream. And perhaps she is. Regardless of whether she is dreaming or wide awake, Our Gal sets off on her journey, from one person to the next, one famous locale after the other. Among the Hollywood fringe denizens with whom she
Apr 15, 2011 Limited
Nov 11, 2013
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Jeris Lee Poindexter
Mike the Tour Guide
Paula Davis Wynant
Joe the Auditor
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It's original and poetic, and if you see it you will probably remember scenes from it a year from now, because it's not really like anything else.
"Footprints" looks like a Jim Jarmusch film set inside an Edward Hopper painting.
The script's so incoherent and the acting so amateurish that it makes the worst old-time Hollywood B-flick seem like "Citizen Kane."
This often risible head-scratcher never cracks the surface of its muddled ambitions, largely wasting its iconic settings on a series of motley interactions, Tinseltown trivia and self-conscious philosophizing.
From its "once upon a time" beginning to the anticlimactic end, "Footprints" remains fatally lodged in La-La Land.
Will it change your life? Probably not, but it will entertain, and even if you do find it eventually gets too slow for your tastes, the film at least delivers enough memorable performances for you to at least walk away with something.
A disappointing feature directoiral debut, which amounts to no more than a tiresome, shallow tour of Hollywood Boulevard.
Some filmmakers and journalists like to promote the myth of Hollywood as a wonderful, harmless dream machine but that disingenuous notion is touchingly subverted in Steven Peros' Footprints.
[Seems] like a downmarket David Lynch knockoff, right down to a mysterious glowering man who occasionally appears out of nowhere.
The barely coherent Footprints seems bent on erasing any nostalgia one might have for Hollywood's heyday.
It all leads to some rather obvious bits of dialogue and down the rabbit hole of a half-baked, borderline incoherent conclusion.
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