Mary Poppins Returns
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All Critics (12)
| Top Critics (1)
| Fresh (10)
| Rotten (2)
| DVD (4)
It's difficult to perceive where a large public might be located for an introspective movie this schematic and unappealing.
It blends together high and low culture, as Toback bet on this combo to win despite its long odds.
Portrait of the artist as a young thug
Probably one of the most naked psychodramas of its decade.
A penetrating portrait of tortured, impotent masculinity and the foolishness of attempting to be something you're not.
Fingers works for a handful of reasons - not the least of which is a phenomenal early performance by Harvey Keitel.
To see Fingers is to see Keitel perform as if he's doing dramatic improv. And that's absolutely fine as it is.
What was the point of this awful, nonsensical movie? None that I could see. Ugly and aimless.
"Fingers" may be a homely stepbrother to Robert De Niro's classic Martin Scorsese vehicles, but it's an interesting curiosity (if hardly a great movie). Harvey Keitel breaks out as a leading man, carrying every scene as Jimmy, an immature, anxious twentysomething who's torn between dreams of becoming a classical pianist and his brutal work as a collector for his bookie father (Michael V. Gazzo, with his impossibly ravaged voice). He pursues a sensuous sculptress (Tisa Farrow, sister of Mia) and has rough sex with future Charlie's Angel Tanya Roberts (sporting the best bikini body you ever saw), but also struggles with homosexual temptations. Meanwhile, football legend Jim Brown (portraying Farrow's muscle-shirted boyfriend) schools him about how real men behave. Nothing quite falls into place for Jimmy, but he's pinning his hopes on an upcoming audition at Carnegie Hall.
Writer/director James Toback's script is rather erratic, and full of casual plot elements that don't go anywhere (Jimmy's confused sexuality, for one, and how about the traffic accident and the prostate problem?). But the most questionable ingredient is -- surprisingly -- Keitel's performance. He gives Jimmy a ridiculous number of tics and twitches and, strangest of all, decides to compulsively mouth all the notes as he fakes piano virtuosity. Anyone familiar with Glenn Gould or Keith Jarrett can guess how hard this is to watch. Expect some unintentioned laughs before the story inevitably turns violent.
Rough and ready original version of the French THE BEAT MY HEART SKIPPED, with Harvey Keitel torn between the two career choices of being a classical pianist and roughing up people who owe his dad money. To my mind this, the original, is the better film, butthat's only because I like 70's films in general, and 70's films with Harvey Keitel in them in particular, and 70's films with Harvey Keitel playing a conflicted character who's highly likely to take his clothes off in at least one scene, the most of all.
Keitel plays a sensitive, womanizing mafia collector in Tobak's debut film. Heavily criticized on it's release, it has thankfully gained a cult audience thanks to people rediscovering it when Keitel got big again in the early 90s. A must see for fans of American seventies cinema and it's also nice to see Tisa Farrow playing opposite of someone who's not a zombie in an Italian horror film (not saying that I don't love those films as well).
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