Breaking news: You know those giant, majestic, ocean-dwelling creatures with the first name “killer?” Turns out if you lock them in tiny spaces, it kills them, and if you get in with them, they kill you.
Since Stephanie “Twilight” Meyers is a producer on Austenland, the following question is fair game: Why are readers who fangirl out about Mr. Darcy from Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice embraced or applauded while devotees of whatever-that-sparkly-vampire-dude’s-name-was are chided?
Documentary film festivals can be a hard sell. You don’t get the star power that goes with fictional films, the impossibly dramatic moments, or the singularly well-crafted denouement that wraps the whole thing up into one resonant piece. The documentary is all about stories.
In one of the most insightful, clever comments in a movie surprisingly devoid of insightful, clever comments, backup singer Janice Pendarvis notes, “When you think about the history of pop music and all the memorable hooks that most people sing along with, they’re singing along with us most of the time.”
Writer/director Sofia Coppola has made a movie that says nothing about people with nothing interesting to offer who steal from famous people who do nothing to be famous. And unless you’re a talk-show conspiracy theorist, it’s kind of hard to get too worked up about that much nothing.