I was about to turn 20 years old. It was 1994 and my grandparents would be celebrating their golden wedding anniversary on my birthday. Flying to Orange, California, to visit them for a week would be a momentous occasion. Afterall, I was leaving my teens and they were entering their retirement.
“In America” is the best film I’ve seen this year. And to be fair, I’ve seen some truly great films so that comment is no small task.
The obsessive compulsive in me can’t help but organize things in pointless lists. Ever make a mental note of things that share some obscure relational similarity? I do. I can’t quit. Here’s an example: movies with numerical film titles.
Director Mark Lewis is described in his short festival biography as “a master of the eccentric animal documentary.”
What started out as counter-culture basement bands in Seattle quickly became mainstream.
Berlinger should stick to his roots.
Never having been to a festival before, I only knew as much about indie movies as the local Blockbuster would rent me.