When the introductory comment is that a film is 'beautifully shot' you know that it will have a slower pace. It evoked a particular mood. It made me very aware of how short my attention span is in this digital world which is accessed and assessed 15 seconds at a time. It slowly won be over such that when it ended, it seemed quite abrupt. I looked at the names scrolling by on the credits, considering each person's contribution. We walked to and rode the subway home in relative silence.

http://www.tiff08.ca/filmsandschedules/films/beforetomorrow

Spooky, and I am not sure how uplifting the lesson is in the end - accepting the constancy of mundane reality vs. submitting to ill-intentioned (and therefore temporary) good. The 3D aspect was impressive, and I appreciate how it contributed to the story without overtaking it. There is some restraint shown in not showing off the technology at the expense of the content. When we were house-hunting, there was something inherently disquieting about crawl spaces, yet I too sought them out as a child. In many children's books, there is a hidden way to the other world: a garden wall, a wardrobe, a hole cut out in the middle of the playhouse floor, a rabbit hole, a rope swing to the other side, a train platform.

This is filmed in such a way that you are quite aware you are the voyeur. Many times it seemed like the characters were going to fall right out of the screen - they were that intimate with the camera. There was intrusiveness on both sides, of the subject matter on the person watching, and the way the camera work made you feel you were observing privileged interactions. I was taken with the youthful energy of it, and thought the chemistry of the exes was the most natural. I've taken to reading screenplays of films I wouldn't watch again, to pick up information without recommitting to an entire screening.
 
 

After having read this short story, I think it will be interesting to see the film. I suppose the best thing to do in this situation is to write poetry in one's early twenties, with the experience of age and the (doomed) exuberance of youth. Although the character loses as he approaches childhood, the thing to ask is whether we care for our elderly as they become less able to care for themselves.

I don't mind ensemble casts with clever links between characters, but it was difficult to commit to characters when there was so much discontinuity. I need to be won over by suffering and hardship in which love prevails. The characters I did like were those played by Laura Linney (self-sacrificing love) and Andrew Lincoln (doomed love).    

I thought this was a good use of 107 minutes early Saturday morning, as a means to ease into the day. Although it is aggressively non-highbrow, and the luck of these two means I would keep them as Facebook friends of friends at best, they amuse me. The high point for me was the bit of poetry at the end.

It's a smart movie that plays on being predictable. It's called dramatic irony: of course the audience knows things aren't going to get better when the characters think they will, but that's just what makes it more fun to watch. Enjoy!

...this is the kind of American story that rarely happens...and to me, the life survived was not worth the windfall. I was unmoved by the big sum, heartbroken instead at the few rupees by which choices are made to exploit children, subjugate women, engage in casual brutality, and trample the meek.

McAvoy plays the ingenue well, and Jolie reprises the coy killer with a conscience. Rigorous training (though applied fraternally) is presented as the most compelling motivation to improve, and I suppose is a giveaway - don't trust a mentor who bloodies you in the process. Though distinctions are made, violence is violence, especially when slowed to the pace of premeditation.

If it is a beautiful fiction, it is a more beautiful fiction than I can imagine otherwise to live by in this life.

I don't have as much contact with kids any more, so it takes some time to re-adapt. The basis of conversation with children is generally in asking them questions, which prompts them to respond. Children also seek responses from adults, due to the learning curve involved in navigating novel circumstances. Adults, in contrast, fall back on topics of conversation, and will ask each other for updates. A couple of my colleagues in communications are more aware of this, and with each person they work with they have a few 'entry points.' It is transparent to me when they run through these social exercises, perhaps because their strengths are greater in communications than marketing (i.e. message vs. means), but it does work. Adults also tell stories to elicit a reaction (generate content for a response).

In some ways I can still slip back into a child-like reticence, 'speak when spoken to,' and look to others to be the character studies they can sometimes be so willing to be.