I love my dad so much. He’s pulled sh*t like this. It will never truly be the same, but we pretend like it is and of course, ultimately, I still love him just as much.
A near total perfect film.
Wholly atmospheric. Unsettling for unsettling’s sake. Appears to want to cross Prisoners with Silence of the Lambs while sprinkling in bits of the supposed novelty one might expect from Anthony Perkins’ son… and just about fails at all of it. There’s no payoff. There’s no takeaway, narratively or in the abstract. It’s just weird. And then it literally explains that weirdness in an attempt to make it make sense. Which usually I would brush off as a storytelling cop out, only it still made no sense.
Sweet and well-meaning, but also pretty flawed. I appreciate a film that dedicates its focus wholeheartedly on the non-violent stories and characters out of Cabrini Green, but my god, the writing—particularly the dialogue of its prepubescent protagonists—was pretty bad in my opinion. It was trying so hard to be insightful, it ended up feeling inauthentic to me, which is such a shame because its commitment to showing the good of a notoriously violent Chicago neighborhood/era is a welcome change to…
That her last name (from her white, Jewish father) literally means "black" in Yiddish is THE MOST ironic thing I've heard about in a LOOONG time.