Holly Hunter - A variety of stars were photographed as they arrived for The New Group 20th Anniversary Gala which was held at the Tribeca Rooftop in New York City, New York, United States - Monday 9th March 2015
Holly Hunter - Opening night after party for the New Group production Rasheeda Speaking, held at the West Bank Cafe - Arrivals. at West Bank Cafe, - New York, New York, United States - Thursday 12th February 2015
Bill Pullman, Scott Elliott, Holly Hunter, David Rabe, Morocco Omari, Raviv Ullman, Nadia Gan, Ben Schnetzer, Adam Bernstein and Richard Chamberlain - Opening night after party for The New Group production Sticks and Bones, held at the Out NYC hotel - Arrivals. at Out NYC hotel, - New York, New York, United States - Friday 7th November 2014
David Rabe, Raviv Ullman, Ben Schnetzer, Holly Hunter, Morocco Omari, Nadia Gan, Bill Pullman, Richard Chamberlain and Scott Elliott - The New 42nd street studios was the location for a meet and greet for the Tony award winning play Sticks and Bones in New York, New York, United States - Tuesday 30th September 2014
Holly Hunter - Gordon MacDonald and Holly Hunter New York City, USA - A variety of stars attended the Opening night of play, originally written by British playwright Alan Ayckbourn 'Relatively Speaking' which was held at the Brooks Atkinson Theatre. Thursday 20th October 2011
Directed by Jodie Foster, Home for the Holidays follows a couple of days in the life of Claudia (Hunter), a starving artist/museum employee whose life goes from bad to worse over the course of Thanksgiving "vacation." Losing her job is only the tip of the iceberg. When she jets home to spend a little time with Mom (Anne Bancroft) and Dad (Charles Durning), the Titanic of her life begins to sink. Enter maniacal brother Tommy (Robert Downey Jr) and eccentric Aunt Glady (Geraldine Chaplin), plus a host of other extended family members, and the result is the most hilarious Thanksgiving dinner you're likely ever to witness.
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After several shots of rotgut to wash down the uppers, downers and endless fuel of smack, bleary eyed Wayne asks FH if he wants to make a couple bucks to pay for the drinks they're gonna have later (we realize it's only mid-afternoon by this point.) They meander off to a nearby house and proceed to rip the copper wiring out of the walls. "Yep," Wayne chuckles. "This ought to be worth forty bucks - enough to get drunk tonight. Heh heh."
Continue reading: Jesus' Son Review
Nine Lives opens strong on Sandra (Elpidia Carrillo), an imprisoned mother. Mopping up a floor, she's threatened by fellow prisoners, and harassed by a guard (Miguel Sandoval) who's convinced she can give him information. Everyone tells Sandra she's not going to make it, but you think she just might be able to, hunkering down turtle-like and just plowing through the rest of her sentence. But then her daughter visits, and the phone doesn't work, sending Sandra into a stunning explosion of rage, like a mother bear kept from her cub. It's a short, unrelentingly powerful story, and done by itself it would stand as a sublime little tragedy. The same goes for the final piece, in which Glenn Close and Dakota Fanning (hardly a better match could be imagined) visit a cemetery and talk with sublime ease about not much at all. But then comes the rest of the film in between.
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The Coen brothers, Joel and Ethan, get this. Like celluloid Micheners, their impressive body of work reaches deep into American settings, from post-war Hollywood to '50s New York, from late '80s Minnesota to early '90s Santa Monica. But it really hit its stride in Arizona.
Continue reading: Raising Arizona Review
With that said, Moonlight Mile is only half bad. Sure, it's weepy and sentimental and fails to take full advantage of an emotionally fertile premise. But as a story of loss, self-discovery and rebirth it succeeds as much as it fails. If this were baseball, Moonlight Mile would be batting .500, which is good. But this is the movies, so half bad means two and a half stars.
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Whether it's through common sense, clean living, or skill, Joel and Ethan Coen have avoided a creative snag. After some 20 years, their movies are still original, intelligent. and funny without being aloof. Their latest effort, O Brother, Where Art Thou?, is no exception. Based on Homer's epic, The Odyssey, and set in Depression-era Mississippi, the brothers have done the unthinkable: They've taken classic literature and made it fun.
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Finding warmth, humor and uneasy comfort in the face of senseless tragedy, "Moonlight Mile" is a poignant movie about pain and loss that doesn't succumb to melodrama and cry-you-a-river, give-me-an-Oscar performances.
Described as "emotionally autobiographical" by writer-director Brad Silberling ("City of Angels") -- whose actress girlfriend was killed by a stalker in 1989 -- the film is about the apprehensive bond that forms between a young man and the parents of his fiancée, who is murdered in a diner just a few weeks before their wedding.
The story, which takes place in 1970s New England (gratuitous soundtrack warning), opens the morning of the funeral as fresh-from-college Joe Nast (Jake Gyllenhaal) wakes up in the childhood bedroom of his late bride-to-be and begins packing his suitcase. He's planned to leave that night, although he's not sure where he's going. But after the service, he spends the evening with her downhearted, acquiescent and ironic parents (Dustin Hoffman and Susan Sarandon), who have resolved simply to go on with life as planned -- just as soon as Sarandon, fed up with a day of public grieving, tosses into the fireplace all the silly self-help books ("These Things Happen," "Grieving for Grown-Ups") given to them by concerned friends trying awkwardly to help.
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Take Ulysses from Homer's "Odyssey," turn him into a dusty but peculiarly dapper hillbilly escaped from a Mississippi chain gang, circa 1937, and whaddya got? Only the funniest, most inspired movie of Coen Brothers illustrious comedy careers.
Taking screwball cues from Depression Era Hollywood and usurping their title from the "message movie" Joel McCrea's frustrated director wanted to make in 1941's satire "Sullivan's Travels," this picture's writers-directors Ethan and Joel Coen cook up a masterpiece of a scruffy romp about a no-class fugitive trying to get home to his wife before she re-marries to a colorless, straw-hatted dandy who holds more promise as a provider.
And who did the Coens get to play their uncouth Cajun hero, Ulysses "Everett" McGill? Why if it isn't George Clooney in a perfectly jaunty performance that seems to channel both the roguish comedic charm of Clark Gable in "It Happened One Night" and the earnest zaniness of Cary Grant in his screwiest comedies.
Continue reading: O Brother, Where Art Thou? Review
Another scruffy, festival circuit flick about lovable, good-looking junkies, "Jesus' Son" gets by on a pair of commendably manic performances from rising stars Billy Crudup and Samantha Morton, but otherwise plots a rambling pre-destined course through blissful and heinous heroin binges, petty larceny and overdose deaths on its way to a stupor-emerging, halcyon rehab finale.
The versatile Crudup ("Waking the Dead," "The Hi-Lo Country") gives good druggie voice-over as an aimless '70s loser known only as F***head (or FH for short), who becomes addicted to H after falling for a beautiful, bedraggled user played by Morton (who was so brilliant as Sean Penn's mute, doormat girlfriend in "Sweet and Lowdown").
Between bloodshot romance, lost souls sex and fiery arguments, they carry each other toward their next fix, just trying to "feel alive."
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A frank and unnerving depiction of the peer-pressure slippery slope scaled by kids hungry for cool cache in the callous caste system of teenage social politics, "Thirteen" is a movie that rings startlingly true, thanks in no small part to co-writer Nikki Reed -- currently 15 years of age -- whose own experiences in a Los Angeles junior high served as fodder for the plot.
Told largely from the amorphous perspective of 7th grader Tracy (the compellingly natural, pubescently lovely Evan Rachel Wood), the film is a grippingly reckless joyride through impetuous shoplifting, impulsive piercings, improvised inebriation and rushed sexuality by a promising, once-ingenuous young girl who has yet to form a real sense of self.
Dying to buddy up to Evie, her school's early-blooming queen bad-girl who is lusted after by all the boys (and played by the prematurely sultry Reed herself), Tracy progressively throws caution, schoolwork, self-respect, loyalty, a close bond with her mother (Holly Hunter) and all her misgivings to the wind. A blank slate eager to be drawn upon, she falls deeply under the influence of this girl whose lifestyle of borderline depravity is itself a precarious experiment in ego-fulfillment and a byproduct of an unhinged upbringing.
Continue reading: Thirteen Review
Perhaps the most extraordinary experimental film ever unleashed outside the confines of the art house circuit, "Time Code" is a confident and daring attempt by director Mike Figgis ("Leaving Las Vegas," "The Loss of Sexual Innocence") to plant his flag on the barely-explored shores of 21st Century filmmaking.
Shooting on hand-held digital video in four continuous takes all running at once, Figgis splits the screen in quadrants like a security camera monitor and fiddles with the audio to draw your eye where he wants it. Then like an orchestral conductor, he unspools a precisely synchronized 93 minutes of raw, unedited, real-time footage, tracking multiple, largely-improvised narratives about a sampling of misanthropic, self-absorbed Hollywood denizens.
Packed with talented, name stars starving for something original to chew on, "Time Code's" has several stories -- some tense and emotional, others cynical and facetious -- unfolding simultaneously and often crossing paths.
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On its surface, "Little Black Book" looks like an tritely pedestrian, gimmick-driven chick flick about an emotionally mixed-up career gal who gets more than she bargained for when she rifles through her boyfriend's Palm Pilot looking up old girlfriends.
So imagine my surprise at being thoroughly entertained by this weightless but canny comedy blessed with characters whose personalities aren't dependant upon plot devices, with snappy, spontaneous dialogue (even witty internal-monologue narration), with a story that flows organically, and with a very human heroine who (gasp!) isn't always likable.
Brittany Murphy plays a sweetly self-conscious aspiring TV journalist -- trapped in an associate producer job at a trashy TV talk show -- who is goaded into nagging doubts about her adoring boyfriend by tittle-tattling coworkers (especially the charismatically tart Holly Hunter) who have been warped into habitual scandal-mongers by years of wrangling prostitute grandmothers and midget Ku Klux Klansmen for a living. (Kathy Bates has a ball as the show's shameless, tyrannical host.)
Continue reading: Little Black Book Review
Date of birth
20th March, 1958
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