by James Killough
I’ve always liked Michael Winterbottom’s name because it makes my inner snickering pubescent, who hovers just slightly under the surface of my persona, think about having sex with a young buck under a Christmas tree. The young buck is wearing a Santa hat and nothing more. Okay, maybe work boots.
Winterbottom is a British director who works with admirable speed, intelligence and ferocity in terms of the issues he tackles. I’ve never met him, but judging by his work he’s a real mensch; he was one of the first to turn a camera on the nasty injustices of Guantanamo. The only thing I know about him is that he owes a large part of his success and his ability to get his films made, despite a lack of box office success, thanks to his long-term partnership with his producer, Andrew Eaton.