Angelina and the Coens—those Old-Fashioned Filmmakers. And the good—I mean bad—witch, Meryl
ANOTHER RE-POSTING FROM A BLOG I’VE SIDELINED FOR THE TIME BEING.
Unbroken. I just saw “Unbroken.” It is wonderful. I did not expect to say this; the reviews are mixed, based partly on whether you are an Angelina Jolie fan I suspect and partly on whether you are fond of old-fashioned war hero/WWII/survival-at-sea-and-prison-camp films.
As a big Angelina Jolie admirer, I trundled my lazy Saturday afternoon self over to my neighborhood multiplex, bought the requisite popcorn (extra butter please), chocolate milk and water for only $15 and prepared to try very hard to like the film for Angelina’s sake. I am not sure what I expected but the names Jolie and Coen did not lead me to believe I would be transported back to the 1950s. And that’s where I went. It was the Royal Theater in Northome, Minnesota and my cousin Audrey was selling tickets out front. On screen there was a very handsome and brave young Gregory Peckish-looking guy…
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