The LEGO Movie 2: The Second Part
The Walking Dead
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All Critics (8)
| Top Critics (6)
| Fresh (6)
| Rotten (2)
Aided by songs performed by the octogenarian blueswoman Alberta Hunter, the filmmaker extracts new cinematic forms from venerable passions.
An incomprehensible melange of striking imagery, obscure dialog, a powerful score, and a script that doesn't know how to go from A to B.
Well worth seeing.
Throughout "Remember My Name," the actors work hard to fulfill the surface requirements of scenes that have no dramatic foundation, and the results are often skittish and baffling.
The film isn't devoid of humor, but its overriding tones are of passion and pain: Chaplin gives a performance that's so wired and immediate it almost hurts.
'Remember My Name" is a film that lingers in the mind without exactly staying in mind. The actions in it are decisive but small, like stirrings in a pond.
Rudolph gets right to the heart of his characters and all to a great, bluesy soundtrack with vocals by the great Alberta Hunter.
The film was too arty at times, as is the want of the director, but it is a gripping film and a good character study.
In "Remember My Name," Emily(Geraldine Chaplin) is new to Los Angeles. So, she starts by buying herself some clothes and finding an apartment where she asks Pike(Moses Gunn), the building manager, for some lamps. Next up is a job that she gets at a dollar store through knowing the mother of Mr. Nudd(Jeff Goldblum), the store's owner. All of which leaves her plenty of time to stalk Neil(Anthony Perkins), a construction worker, and his wife Barbara(Berry Berenson).
Alan Rudolph can be an especially exasperating director, considering his over reliance on mood to carry a movie. At least with "Remember My Name," there is a plot that should make a difference. But for the most part, the movie has an elliptical route to it, embracing the mystery instead. Which would be fine because it all makes perfect sense in the end. But only if this was all more compelling than simply watching a neat cast(including a young Alfre Woodard) do their thing. And then there's the whole Bulgarian earthquake thing playing in the background. At least the cool blues soundtrack is relevant.
Few things irritate me more in film than nonsensical motifs. In Remember My Name, there are multiple mentions of the Budapest earthquakes (mostly through television broadcasts), and the characters barely even notice. I get that the tragedy is supposed set up and inform the various tragedies we're seeing on screen, but when there's no active engagement with that material from your cast, it's a waste of time. Geraldine Chaplin, as always, is outstanding as the lead, but even she and Perkins can't save this disjointed, languid film from figuring out whether it wants to be an updated "woman's revenge/melodrama" film or a mediation on psychoanalysis. Unfortunately, it fails at doing either.
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