Cate Blanchett

REVIEW: ‘Blue Jasmine’ Isn’t a Return to Form. It’s a Reinvention.

I don’t read reviews or production notes before I see films, so it wasn’t until almost the end of Woody Allen’s Blue Jasmine that I realized it was inspired by A Streetcar Named Desire. Allen has done a number of homages to other filmmakers or based his movies on classics, but this is a jazz riff so accomplished that it transforms a disturbing meltdown into a pleasant experience.

Ball So Hard


by James Tuttle

Gentle reader,

Over the weekend, I took Scott—or The Gimp, as he is known since fucking up his Achilles tendon last week—and braved the democratic hordes of Universal CityWalk with his crutches to catch the new Avengers movie.  This was a happy accident since it happens to be Shoot Your Heroes Week here at PFC.

Chet Corey is available for the next superhero movie.

We’d have normally wandered down the hill to the super-luxe Arclight Cinemas but the movie wasn’t playing there and Disney’s beautifully restored El Capitan Theatre on Hollywood Boulevard wanted $30 a ticket, which they’ll get from me the day they pry it from my cold, dead fingers.  Universal is just over the hill, though it sometimes seems light years away culturally.  It’s really not so bad once you get the hang of the labyrinthine parking structure and the Mexican kids playing in their underwear in any available water feature.

Alice Up The Rabbit’s Hole


by James Killough

I have a good friend who sits on the opposite end of the filmmaking process from me.  I simmer up to my neck with scalding brimstone in the deepest malebolge of development hell, while he, as the owner of an entertainment advertising firm, strums a harp strung with cash in marketing heaven, where desperate studios heap clouds of money in an attempt to polish their turds and dupe the public.  This sensible friend once observed, “Nobody ever sets out to make a shitty film.”  And yet so many are made.

The Chemical Brothers and epileptic seizure-inducing lighting follow Hanna-as-Alice as she escapes to less-than-Wonderland.

With regard to Joe Wright’s Hanna, I wholeheartedly agree with Rex Reed’s review in the New York Observer.  It’s a “pretentious mess,” which I suppose isn’t so surprising given who made it.  I’ll add my own observations to Reed’s from a more technical point of view in a bit, but not without taking this occasion to name drop and somehow tie Hanna into my own experience.