When the film opens, the family matriarch is already dead, so it’s impossible to tell if father and son ever had a good relationship, but it certainly seems strained now, and likely mourning the loss of its favourite buffer, mom. Around the grave site, widower Vasil (Ivan Savov) insists that the coffin’s lid be pried off so he can take a few last pictures. Afterward, at the reception, things get even more tense when Vasil insists his late wife has been trying to deliver him a message, from her death on the operating table and beyond.
The son, Pavel (Ivan Barnev) is really unhappy to be dealing with his father’s increasingly crazy antics when he should be home with his wife, who is having such a tough pregnancy he can’t even bring himself to tell her that his mother died. He sort of gets connived into bringing his father to see a psychic, and “consents” to the ensuing road trip is even more reluctantly – but he can’t quite ditch the old man either, fearing that his father is being targeted by scammers in his grief.
It sounds bleak, and it IS dark, but it’s also darkly funny. It sort of reminds me of my mother’s phone calls relating the newest bit of scandal from my grandparents, who drive her at least as crazy as the dad in this movie. I can hear her voice now telling you: definitely more crazy. Definitely more. There are still two of them! And they trigger each other constantly, my grandmother smoking in the bathroom in the world’s worst-kept secret, my grandfather refusing all food but desserts. Both of them agreeing to send cash and banking info to anyone who calls them up on the telephone. And then my mother swoops in to untangle all the knots.
The dynamics are interesting: the father clearly exerts a subtle kind of power, but his vulnerability is acknowledged in Pavel’s refusal to abandon him even though he barely tolerates him. Family is a prickly plant. Grief is crazy-making. The relationship between child and aging parent is tricky and fraught. Directors Kristina Grozeva and Petar Valchanov mine that shit for all it’s worth, and frankly, it’s kind of nice to know it’s good for something.
DC’s latest movie, Joker, tells the origin story of the iconic villain. Well, it tells an origin story for Joker, one that to my knowledge doesn’t line up with anything in the comics. It is a fitting origin that has some nice touches, including a subplot that casts Gotham’s beloved Wayne family in a very interesting new light.
of the novel by Camilla Gibb, and of course I read it myself about 500 books ago. I have little memory of it, but had the vague impression of not having appreciated it much.
Of course, life doesn’t pause for the dying. Laundry piles up, sandwiches need to be sliced diagonally, and so on.
acceptance had on all of us. Above all, he taught us it was okay to feel.
That’s when Destiny and Ramona make a little luck of their own. Both single mothers, they are struck with the entrepreneurial spirit. Sex, money, drugs – they’re a match made in heaven. Or in a gentlemen’s club. Where the men are ANYTHING but gentlemen.
Greed’s comedic and satirical elements work well, with Coogan ably and expertly leading the way. I am sure Coogan could play this role in his sleep but he’s not phoning it in at any point. He clearly relishes the chance to play this type of character and he delivers a wonderfully over-the-top take on a selfish billionaire (though really, is there any other kind?).
Jamie’s dad, Quint (Peter Sarsgaard) just happens to be the manager of that hedge fund I was talking about, and he’s super stressed, selling assets to stop the bleeding. He’s not a particularly nice guy, it probably goes without saying. His wife Karen (Marisa Tomei) is fairly pragmatic about their flawed marriage, but she cries a lot. She recently bought a theatre to renovate and run, but with the hedge fund having a coronary, she’s about to lose it.
ASSHOLES WATCHING MOVIES 