
Danny Collins movie review: the tragedy of the filthy rich rock star
Listen as the world’s tiniest violin plays on the soundtrack of this utterly obvious and clichéd three-quarter-life crisis dramedy.

Listen as the world’s tiniest violin plays on the soundtrack of this utterly obvious and clichéd three-quarter-life crisis dramedy.

Little more than the standard woman-in-peril thriller, but worse, because it robs the woman of the bit of agency these sorts of movies usually grant her.

Descends into emotional idiocy and insufficient intrigue to end in a disgusting place that presumes that a woman is an appropriate pawn in games men play.

My life in a nutshell.

It does sort of feel like one of those rah-rah corporate promo videos they make you watch on the day you start a new job, but there are some surprises here.

A lovely film with a compassionate appreciation for how teen girls can often find a sort of comfort in clinging to their woundedness and pain.
It’s not intentional.

The setting for the wonderful novel and movie… now the site of a McDonald’s.

That a young girl’s emotions are used to tell a story about universal human experience is something new, a paradigm-smashing win for female representation.

There is joy and wonder in this marvelous mounting of a human mind, and a thrilling audacity in how it dares at such a strange and impossible thing.