El Trabajo De Mis Sueños

While there is nothing particularly revelatory about My Salinger Year, it is a pleasant and neatly crafted film. There are obvious comparisons to be made with The Devil Wears Prada but this work seems far more honest and much less showy. There is humour but not to the camp heights of 'Prada'. Instead there are some great observations on the arrival of the internet and email into the long established world of New York literati, the story being set in 1995. The always striking Sigourney Weaver has fabulous command of comedy and makes these moments truly memorable. But an actor such as Weaver has so much more to give and does so in the small opportunities she his given to extend her character beyond two dimensions. Qualley is an adeqate lead, at times over then under playing her role. Fantasy moments are also woven in, which do feel awkward at first but then somehow seem to fit with the protagonist's wistfulness. A dance sequence is particularly lovely. If you are looking for a pleasant, not very challenging but intelligent adult film then My Salinger Year will satisfy a night out, or more likely, a night in.

This film starts off a bit slow and hard to follow until you start to feel you are back in that time of your life when you had your first notable job. The story unfolds and you start to care about the depth of the cast. The music accompanies the scenes nicely. The images of New York are always appreciated by me. This is a gentle movie for those who appreciate writers, books and agents.

Most people reviewing this film - understandably - look to it to be an examination of the world of New York literary agents, J.D. Salinger's work, aspiring writers, or some combination of all the above. Who can say - but it seems clear from seeing it just now (on its U.S. release) that it's a movie not principally concerned about those other things, but rather about its own central character, Joana Rakoff (as played by Margaret Qualley). It is, after all, *Joanna's* Salinger Year - not those other folks'; it's concerned with her *experience* of those things - not the things themselves. I find the movie to be highly underrated; indeed, it's got a few really standout moments (mostly things that play out in the confines of Joanna's mind) - as well as some good, solid performances. If you take it purely as a story of personal growth and development, *set against* the backdrop of the NY literary world, I think you'll enjoy it, as I did. It's "subtle," to be sure - but who needs sledgehammers? (Save that for "My Sledgehammer Year.")

This film isn't a gale of entertainment. Much like the book. It's a Sunday read in the sun while the breeze blows. Or a Saturday late movie when you can't sleep because the damn moon is full and is keeping you up. Wonderfully acted. Styled realistically. Engaged dialogues. Sigourney carries herself and the film along every time she appears and Margaret is a delight to watch- she is going places. Read the book and watch the film. Or watch the film and read the book. It matters not what comes first. The movie is for all book lovers, and whether time has read Catcher or not. A solid 7.

My Salinger Year is an appealing movie, that honestly tries to be artsy. There has clearly been put much attention to the costumes and the set pieces to sketch either a naturalistic or an expressionistic image at the right times. They play with the fourth wall in a way that reminds of Woody Allan, like it or not, and the realism of most of the scenes are at times contrasted with images that are open for interpretation, also like it or not.

The characters and their dialogues are borderline caricatures (cribbed from The Devil Wears Prada, by the way), but are just barely saved from being a parody by the intimate performances. The tempo, though, is that of a rusty typewriter. Uncomfortable pauses in between scenes are abundant and the actors take their time for every sentence. Hereby the film wins believability, but loses my attention.

The movie rambles on like an omnibus train that at times halts in a little station where no one boards let alone leaves the train, but along the way does show a few mesmerising landscapes. Still, the finale is of much less meaning than the ecstatic waltz music make it appear; a little bit like arriving in Boulder while the broadcasting voice announces New York.

Apart from the critique, it should be said that this charming evening filler has encouraged me to write this text ("You're a writer, yes? - Yes - So write!"); at bloody ten past eleven in the evening with an already chilled tea next to me. A manuscript that I, miraculously, finished and put online where it will probably end up in the shredder of oblivion.

It's not an appalling movie. Mostly it's a slow movie, with dry humour, interesting images and the usual pretentious use of well known classical music to give the whole at least some "préséance".