The Time Being (2013)
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Critic Reviews for The Time Being
A brittle, pompous drama about artists and the price they pay for inspiration.
Director Nemad Cicin-Sain and co-writer Richard N. Gladstein are both guilty of serving up a totally empty, tonally confused meditation on the creative process.
"The Time Being'' looks sharp, but it's about as dramatically satisfying as watching paint dry.
An exhaustingly pretentious heave of artistic self-involvement, "The Time Being" takes an exceptionally handsome journey to nowhere at all.
While the underdeveloped script - co-written by Richard Gladstein - never earns its sense of self-importance, the visuals are evocative enough to draw us further into the movie's ultimately unsatisfying mysteries.
Audience Reviews for The Time Being
Daniel (Wes Bentley - American Beauty) is an artist whose career has never really taken off and whose marriage is beginning to suffer as a result of this constant failure. He has had numerous gallery showings to no avail and his friend Eric (Corey Stoll - Midnight in Paris) has even bent over backwards to keep his struggling friend's work -- that won't sell -- in his gallery in hopes that he'll one day catch a break. When he sells one piece to a reclusive millionaire (Frank Langella - Robot & Frank), Daniel hopes this will lead to some profitable commissions that'll turn his career and marriage around. Daniel instead finds himself being sent on odd photography assignments around the city taking pictures of little children on playgrounds. Daniel isn't sure what to make of his new "work" and is even more unsure of what to make of old man Warner (Langella). The film is pretentiously arty -- are there any other kids about "struggling" artists?! -- and neither the artist nor the old man is someone you want to root for. I found them both to be rather insufferable as they are both the type of person who want those around them -- including the audience I guess -- to be as miserable as they are. The Time Being wants to be serious and high-brow and it believes its lingering shots of paintbrushes being cleaned in water is somehow profound. None of this is profound -- it is glib and self-important, the worst kind of art imaginable.
I watched this movie, as, a full Moon, dressed calm ocean, within light, reflection of, artists dancing, within the night. Precious.
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