“Come on, come on, I’d love it — don’t hang back!” dares Gloria Swenson, brandishing a gun at three mobsters that know she means business. Gena Rowlands is electric as a tough New York ex- gangland moll who finds that her maternal instincts make her deadlier than the male. John Cassavetes’ commercial crowd-pleaser is also a smart, sassy gangland mini-classic.
Gloria
Blu-ray
Twilight Time
1980 / Color / 1:85 widescreen / 123 min. / Street Date August 21, 2018 / Available from the Twilight Time Movies Store / 29.95
Starring: Gena Rowlands, Buck Henry, John Adames, Julie Carmen, Lupe Garnica, Jessica Castillo, Basilio Franchina, Val Avery, Tom Noonan.
Cinematography: Fred Schuler
Film Editor: George C. Villaseñor
Original Music: Bill Conti
Produced by Sam Shaw
Written and Directed by John Cassavetes
Do you have a list of movies that you’ll watch again, just to enjoy a particular actor’s performance? Gena Rowlands is one of those people that pull you in.
Gloria
Blu-ray
Twilight Time
1980 / Color / 1:85 widescreen / 123 min. / Street Date August 21, 2018 / Available from the Twilight Time Movies Store / 29.95
Starring: Gena Rowlands, Buck Henry, John Adames, Julie Carmen, Lupe Garnica, Jessica Castillo, Basilio Franchina, Val Avery, Tom Noonan.
Cinematography: Fred Schuler
Film Editor: George C. Villaseñor
Original Music: Bill Conti
Produced by Sam Shaw
Written and Directed by John Cassavetes
Do you have a list of movies that you’ll watch again, just to enjoy a particular actor’s performance? Gena Rowlands is one of those people that pull you in.
- 8/25/2018
- by Glenn Erickson
- Trailers from Hell
Nightsongs
Berlin International Film Festival
BERLIN -- "Nightsongs" (Die Nacht Singt Ihre Lieder) is a spectacularly bad movie. Based on a Norwegian play by Jon Fosse that seldom leaves an apartment living room, Romuald Karmakar's film is essentially a 95-minute quarrel between a young couple in a disintegrating marriage. When the movie's first line is "I can't take it anymore", you have nowhere to go but into a downward spiral of repetitious dialogue, bitter recriminations and abject misery. Even festival directors will shy away from booking this house-emptier.
A young couple lives in Berlin's Mitte district, where old and new collide in a postmodern hodgepodge. The woman (newcomer Anne Ratte-Polle) has just had a baby but still wants to go nightclubbing, see friends and enjoy life. The man (Frank Giering, a dynamic actor handcuffed here by a role of complete inertia) lies on a sofa and reads all day. Depressed by continual rejections of his writing from publishers, he has retreated into an agoraphobic stupor.
She harangues him, and he answers in monosyllables. You get the feeling they have this fight daily. He only displays energy when he suspects her of infidelity. He turns out not to be wrong as a third-act entrance by one Baste (Sebastian Schipper) makes clear. ("You're still probably the father," Baste comforts the husband.)
Ultimately, the woman can't bring herself to leave. She says she will miss her kitchen pots. Yes, she actually says that.
Some in the film's festival debut audience took much of this to be an intentional comedy. But director Karmakar (who adapted by play with Martin Rosenfeldt) and his cast lay too much stress on the angst-ridden drama and bitter words for this notion to be fully persuasive. Celebrated cinematographer Fred Schuler's camera glares steadily at the forlorn characters, as even the walls appear to close in on them, driving them further into despair.
Marthe Keller, always a welcome presence onscreen, turns up briefly as the man's mother in a sequence designed to drive home the point that even his parents can barely stand him. Long before the end, one has grown convinced that these two deserve one another.
BERLIN -- "Nightsongs" (Die Nacht Singt Ihre Lieder) is a spectacularly bad movie. Based on a Norwegian play by Jon Fosse that seldom leaves an apartment living room, Romuald Karmakar's film is essentially a 95-minute quarrel between a young couple in a disintegrating marriage. When the movie's first line is "I can't take it anymore", you have nowhere to go but into a downward spiral of repetitious dialogue, bitter recriminations and abject misery. Even festival directors will shy away from booking this house-emptier.
A young couple lives in Berlin's Mitte district, where old and new collide in a postmodern hodgepodge. The woman (newcomer Anne Ratte-Polle) has just had a baby but still wants to go nightclubbing, see friends and enjoy life. The man (Frank Giering, a dynamic actor handcuffed here by a role of complete inertia) lies on a sofa and reads all day. Depressed by continual rejections of his writing from publishers, he has retreated into an agoraphobic stupor.
She harangues him, and he answers in monosyllables. You get the feeling they have this fight daily. He only displays energy when he suspects her of infidelity. He turns out not to be wrong as a third-act entrance by one Baste (Sebastian Schipper) makes clear. ("You're still probably the father," Baste comforts the husband.)
Ultimately, the woman can't bring herself to leave. She says she will miss her kitchen pots. Yes, she actually says that.
Some in the film's festival debut audience took much of this to be an intentional comedy. But director Karmakar (who adapted by play with Martin Rosenfeldt) and his cast lay too much stress on the angst-ridden drama and bitter words for this notion to be fully persuasive. Celebrated cinematographer Fred Schuler's camera glares steadily at the forlorn characters, as even the walls appear to close in on them, driving them further into despair.
Marthe Keller, always a welcome presence onscreen, turns up briefly as the man's mother in a sequence designed to drive home the point that even his parents can barely stand him. Long before the end, one has grown convinced that these two deserve one another.
- 7/9/2004
- The Hollywood Reporter - Movie News
Nightsongs
Berlin International Film Festival
BERLIN -- "Nightsongs" (Die Nacht Singt Ihre Lieder) is a spectacularly bad movie. Based on a Norwegian play by Jon Fosse that seldom leaves an apartment living room, Romuald Karmakar's film is essentially a 95-minute quarrel between a young couple in a disintegrating marriage. When the movie's first line is "I can't take it anymore", you have nowhere to go but into a downward spiral of repetitious dialogue, bitter recriminations and abject misery. Even festival directors will shy away from booking this house-emptier.
A young couple lives in Berlin's Mitte district, where old and new collide in a postmodern hodgepodge. The woman (newcomer Anne Ratte-Polle) has just had a baby but still wants to go nightclubbing, see friends and enjoy life. The man (Frank Giering, a dynamic actor handcuffed here by a role of complete inertia) lies on a sofa and reads all day. Depressed by continual rejections of his writing from publishers, he has retreated into an agoraphobic stupor.
She harangues him, and he answers in monosyllables. You get the feeling they have this fight daily. He only displays energy when he suspects her of infidelity. He turns out not to be wrong as a third-act entrance by one Baste (Sebastian Schipper) makes clear. ("You're still probably the father," Baste comforts the husband.)
Ultimately, the woman can't bring herself to leave. She says she will miss her kitchen pots. Yes, she actually says that.
Some in the film's festival debut audience took much of this to be an intentional comedy. But director Karmakar (who adapted by play with Martin Rosenfeldt) and his cast lay too much stress on the angst-ridden drama and bitter words for this notion to be fully persuasive. Celebrated cinematographer Fred Schuler's camera glares steadily at the forlorn characters, as even the walls appear to close in on them, driving them further into despair.
Marthe Keller, always a welcome presence onscreen, turns up briefly as the man's mother in a sequence designed to drive home the point that even his parents can barely stand him. Long before the end, one has grown convinced that these two deserve one another.
BERLIN -- "Nightsongs" (Die Nacht Singt Ihre Lieder) is a spectacularly bad movie. Based on a Norwegian play by Jon Fosse that seldom leaves an apartment living room, Romuald Karmakar's film is essentially a 95-minute quarrel between a young couple in a disintegrating marriage. When the movie's first line is "I can't take it anymore", you have nowhere to go but into a downward spiral of repetitious dialogue, bitter recriminations and abject misery. Even festival directors will shy away from booking this house-emptier.
A young couple lives in Berlin's Mitte district, where old and new collide in a postmodern hodgepodge. The woman (newcomer Anne Ratte-Polle) has just had a baby but still wants to go nightclubbing, see friends and enjoy life. The man (Frank Giering, a dynamic actor handcuffed here by a role of complete inertia) lies on a sofa and reads all day. Depressed by continual rejections of his writing from publishers, he has retreated into an agoraphobic stupor.
She harangues him, and he answers in monosyllables. You get the feeling they have this fight daily. He only displays energy when he suspects her of infidelity. He turns out not to be wrong as a third-act entrance by one Baste (Sebastian Schipper) makes clear. ("You're still probably the father," Baste comforts the husband.)
Ultimately, the woman can't bring herself to leave. She says she will miss her kitchen pots. Yes, she actually says that.
Some in the film's festival debut audience took much of this to be an intentional comedy. But director Karmakar (who adapted by play with Martin Rosenfeldt) and his cast lay too much stress on the angst-ridden drama and bitter words for this notion to be fully persuasive. Celebrated cinematographer Fred Schuler's camera glares steadily at the forlorn characters, as even the walls appear to close in on them, driving them further into despair.
Marthe Keller, always a welcome presence onscreen, turns up briefly as the man's mother in a sequence designed to drive home the point that even his parents can barely stand him. Long before the end, one has grown convinced that these two deserve one another.
- 2/12/2004
- The Hollywood Reporter - Movie News
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