A perfect little picture, showcasing a man’s work and life, often intertwined. Discussing this movie with people around NYC, everyone has their Bill story, often with a cutting of showing their inclusion in the Weekend Styles section (or, more often than naught, lamenting that they were next to someone who was in the Style section).
Amazing access, large in scope, but doesn’t begin to answer the question which keeps popping up throughout the film: What is the future of the Times. It was as if by just showing the process, how honest and hardworking the professional journalists are that the question was to be answered. A great snapshot in time, with good cinematography but with a lack of focus.
Last of the Mohicans is 97 minutes of dimly-lit landscapes with overwrought dialog, 15 minutes of pure awesome, followed by 5 minutes of guilt.
I watched this on a small TV screen in Bombay, off of a downloaded copy from Netflix. Even free I wanted my money back. It isn’t that I don’t think women should be crude, it was that it was just so bad. Bad as in, not funny. I think they forgot to bring the funny.