My focus on the lips wasn't by chance, Parkhill actually opens and practically closes the film with zoomed shots of the lead's puckers. In Dot the I, the camera follows lips and eyes almost reverentially. It's as though Parkhill believes he can capture the soul of his actors in close-up shots of their faces. It's telling because despite the pretension of depth, the film is quite superficial, with an odd, almost off, affectation. Parkhill wants to tell us an engaging, deliriously snappy story but he loses us with half-baked dialogue and patchwork style.
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Sitting in the theatre, still aching for Pepto-Bismol after Mograbi's shaky camerawork, I began to compose my negative review in advance. I began to figure out insults that I could pass off later on. This process occupied my mind for almost five minutes, at which point the thoroughly excellent and surprising Bobby G. Cant' Swim came on the screen and made me vow yet again to save coming up with snide wise ass comments until after I have watched the movie.
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So what is Spring Forward? Simply put, Spring Forward is unique. It is not unique in the sense of Being John Malkovich or Spectres of the Spectrum (a uniqueness tainted with the surreal), but instead unique in the point of fact that it a movie that has no plot, that has no centralized point or purpose... that has nothing but characters. The characters are Murph (Ned Beatty) and Paul (Schreiber), two city parks department workers in Connecticut who spend one year talking while on the job.
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