tatter
Entrou em jun. de 2001
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Selos2
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Avaliações3
Classificação de tatter
A film of rare magic. This little known but top-notch production is whimsical, thoroughly engaging, and delicately controlled.
The atmosphere is consistent throughout, with universal types exaggeratedly peopling and animating a small Welsh seaside town.
This is as close as any British film has come to creating a Fellini-like mood.
Narrative lyricism overpowers any actor's personal performance, though Peter O'Toole excels as Captain Cat. Glynnis Johns's performance also stands out, as do those of a motley mix of more minor characters.
Over it all, Richard Burton's driving cadences worthily guide Thomas's verse to an eccentric and vibrant cinematic life.
Thoroughly enjoyable.
The atmosphere is consistent throughout, with universal types exaggeratedly peopling and animating a small Welsh seaside town.
This is as close as any British film has come to creating a Fellini-like mood.
Narrative lyricism overpowers any actor's personal performance, though Peter O'Toole excels as Captain Cat. Glynnis Johns's performance also stands out, as do those of a motley mix of more minor characters.
Over it all, Richard Burton's driving cadences worthily guide Thomas's verse to an eccentric and vibrant cinematic life.
Thoroughly enjoyable.
Why do so many North Americans (well okay, maybe not Mexicans) fall over themselves claiming to see deep and meaningful accomplishment in even the most overboiled, not-clever-enough-by-half, British tripe?
That this sophomoronic, facile tale, chronically teetering under the impossibly heavy demands it makes on our suspension of disbelief, could be seen as anything other than a heavy-handed, overwrought, and exceedingly indulgent plod through ages-old ruminative terrain on the nature of our existence, is discouraging. It just ain't all that well done.
Why, then, did I watch it all the way through? First, Branagh's American character is, as a piece of pure acting apart from the 'storyline' in which it is enmeshed, well done. Thompson also does excellent silents, startles, smiles and hysterics. And Jacobi does his typically pursed-lip, narrowed-eye, yucky-silken schtick. All very comfy for habitual moviegoers - even if all the actors' efforts, in the end, are to no fulfilling purpose.
And also, there IS a sense of powerful potential in this film; it's just that it's founded on much too insubstantial a premise for that potential to be satisfactorily realized.
That this sophomoronic, facile tale, chronically teetering under the impossibly heavy demands it makes on our suspension of disbelief, could be seen as anything other than a heavy-handed, overwrought, and exceedingly indulgent plod through ages-old ruminative terrain on the nature of our existence, is discouraging. It just ain't all that well done.
Why, then, did I watch it all the way through? First, Branagh's American character is, as a piece of pure acting apart from the 'storyline' in which it is enmeshed, well done. Thompson also does excellent silents, startles, smiles and hysterics. And Jacobi does his typically pursed-lip, narrowed-eye, yucky-silken schtick. All very comfy for habitual moviegoers - even if all the actors' efforts, in the end, are to no fulfilling purpose.
And also, there IS a sense of powerful potential in this film; it's just that it's founded on much too insubstantial a premise for that potential to be satisfactorily realized.
If more movies were made like this, Memento, with its empty story-line and cute direction, would be seen more easily for what it is: mind-numbingly pedestrian schlock. Pearce does well, but this movie annoyingly and shallowly overworks a fascinating premise, as most con jobs do.