Last night I got to see a screening of
Paris, je t'aime. It was actually really great, overall.
I'd like to talk more about it. I'd like to mention my thoughts on short films--on what works, what doesn't, what can be told and what can't. I'd like to go on about how strangely emotional it was to see the thirty-years-aged Gena Rowlands and Ben Gazzara sit across from each other for one more scene, like bittersweet closure for all the Cassavettes movies. I'd like to rant on how I was quite enjoying the Wes Craven one, until it went from clever to silly, and then I hated it.
But I can't but passingly mention said things, as work calls.
Bluh.