The idea was to try and see Pan's Labyrinth today. The line down the block and around the corner from the one screen in the entire city where the movie is playing changed my mind.
I did make it to the theater earlier this week to see Little Children. Porkie or not- and I think not - it's fair to say Kate Winslet has the greatest nipples. And it may be just one man's opinion, but I think she is a very good actress as well. The movie itself is more of a mixed bag. It's better than American Beauty - a comparison I make because they are both of the suburban/bourgeois ennui genre - but what isn't.
All of which isn't to say I didn't identify with and enjoy particular things about it besides Kate Winslet's performace, notwithstanding the strange and incogrous omniscient narration. But in the end it is of a piece with Babel and Marie Antoinette as movies by directors with undeniable talents whose philosophical reach far exceeds their intellectual grasp. (Or is that vice versa)?
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