Amanda Seyfried’s having trouble getting into interview mode. The Mamma Mia! and Jennifer’s Body star is listless and, strangely, barefoot.
“I haven’t slept, and I’m not a shoe person,” she says grumpily, dropping a pair of high heels on the floor beside her chair in a Hyatt hotel room.
You know a romantic weepie’s in trouble when the relationship between the guy and his father packs a more powerful punch than the connection between the two lovers.
Steve Buscemi doesn’t get a lot of starring roles, so I don’t blame him for signing on to Saint John Of Las Vegas. A present-day retelling of Dante’s Inferno in the context of New Mexico insurance fraud probably sounded cool at the pitch meeting.
Adam Green is on a ski mountain somewhere outside Park City, Utah, doing a quick cellphone interview.
I’ve all but given up on being entertained by John Travolta when he’s in action-movie mode; he’s all swagger and teeth, and that’s just no fun.
Xavier Dolan’s I Killed My Mother is a mess. Some of it is really good, and some of it is painfully amateurish.
This weekend and next, the film component of Harbourfront Centre’s Kuumba festival celebrates Black History Month with free screenings of recent music documentaries at the Studio Theatre.
Director Mira Nair and star Hilary Swank do a fine job of conveying the joy and terror of piloting tiny, fragile planes over beautiful land- and seascapes through the vastness of the sky.
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