Was he a rocker? A punk rocker? A cow punk? A new wave boy? I have no idea. I don’t think he did either.
I felt the same way at the end of this movie as I did at the end of Pretty in Pink. The weirdo (Andie/Randy) could do way better than the totally gag me drags (Julie/Blane). Actually I wanna see that mashup. Randy would have loved Andie’s prom dress.
The script is actually pretty funny but could…
Finally something that makes me believe in filmmaking again. Story is the holy father. It always will be. And it remains the focal point of this film, dressed and encouraged by thrilling performances, delicious cinematography, incredible sets and wardrobe, and a razor-like score.
I’m so sad that this was robbed of deserved awards. Show Billy Wilder Conclave and Anora and tell him to predict best picture. What is he choosing. This is mastery and it’s what I could only hope to scratch the surface of someday.
I love a solid silent film. I love an expertly crafted set. I love a tragic male character. And I love the drama of black and white horror.
Suffice to say, I loved this movie.
