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This review may contain spoilers. I can handle the truth.
You don't understand, there's nothin'... there's nothin' there. There's nothin' there.
I really like this movie. Like a lot. Almost every aspect of it good. The acting is uniformly great even if Michelle Williams's New England accent is a bit much at times. Didn't remember the non-linear structure from seeing it in theaters, so that was a pleasant surprise. The mixture of comedy and somber tones actually works quite well and matches reality.
But this movie is not as affecting…
It was easier when I just imagined you
You are laying on your back. A bunch of pebbles are falling on your body, the rocks growing in size until they are boulders. Your body is squashed and you can no longer feel pain because nothing more can be done. The boulders continue falling, but they almost feel as if they are in your imagination, like they are hitting another body that looks exactly like yours. You can't even cry about…
You can murder a liberator, but you can't murder liberation. You can murder a revolutionary, but you can't murder revolution. And you can murder a freedom fighter, but you can't murder freedom.
Martin Sheen as J. Edgar Hoover is one of the scariest things I've seen in a while.
Daniel Kaluuya? Magnetic, can't look away (made me think of the freestyle scene from WIDOWS). LaKeith Stanfield? Layered and beautiful. But what I'll remember is the look in Dominique Fishback's eyes…
I'll see you down the road
In a movie oozing with beautiful images, the one that will stick with me is Frances McDormand's Fern floating on her back in a river; she is at once completely tranquil and adrift, underwater and above water.
Definite Terrence Malick DNA here; Fern literally lives at one point in a Badlands RV park and calls her and her friend the "bitches of Badlands." But also the westerns of John Ford. That penultimate shot of…