Marian (Preston) is struggling to write a novel, in which she pictures two brothers (Chernus and Roberts) living on a land-locked boat wearing just their underpants. Both of them have an awareness of their fate, and an ability to control it. So when Marian's mentor (Pendleton) tells her she needs to kill off her favourite character in order to find truth in the story, one of the brothers rebels and marches into the real world. He emerges in Marian's past, where as a little girl (Lamer) she's watching her widowed father (Rogers) wage war on his depression.
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Laura Esterman and Richard Masur - Laura Esterman and Richard Masur New York City, USA - at the after party celebrating the Opening Night of the New Group Theatre Off-Broadway play 'Two Thousand Years' held at the West Bank Cafe. Thursday 7th February 2008
Strange then: Nicholson isn't funny at all, and only the quirky charms of Meryl Streep make Heartburn remotely palatable. Heartburn is Nora Ephron's first comedy, based on her novel of the same name -- a thinly veiled expose about her life with journalist Carl Bernstein. The film casts Streep as a New York food writer and Nicholson as a Washington columnist. They meet, fall in love, decide to marry, have kids. Unfortunately, Nicholson can't keep it in his pants -- and all manner of trouble ensues.
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Such is the case with Multiplicity, the new Harold Ramis-Michael Keaton comedy about a guy who clones himself in order to get a little free time.
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Imagine hateful movies like Ladder 49, The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, and Charlie's Angels: Full Throttle as being one kind of deceptive lie about the world. The kind that oversimplifies human beings, pretending we are more beautiful or powerful or good or wholesome than we actually are. Imagine sitcoms that paint a picture of us as having perfect jobs, clothes, houses, and bodies. Those are the kinds of films and media that independent film purportedly rebels against. And Todd Solondz takes it so far in the opposite direction that he paints pictures of the ugly and the lost, then asks us to mock them, and say that there's no hope. Palindromes is just as loathsome as the worst kind of lie Hollywood or television has duped us with, because it's duping us just as much in a different way. It smears us in cinematic dogshit, then says, "Isn't that horrible?"
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Directed by Peter Hyams, who hasn't done much of note in his whole career (including End of Days and a bunch of Jean-Claude Van Damme movies), Hanover Street is a pleasant meditation on finding solace in rough times. In London, during WWII, an American pilot (Ford) and a British nurse (Lesley-Anne Down) cross paths moments before an air raid and find each other's embrace not so intolerable. (Never mind that she's married.)
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Billy Crystal directs and stars in this Baby Boomer romantic fable about a pair of star-crossed lovers (Crystal, as Mickey, and Debra Winger, as Ellen) who can't seem to get their relationship right. Going through a dozen iterations of "boy meets girl, boy loses girl," the couple's story is told through a narrative from their friends over dinner.
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