Writing has been the only escape of Louise Bryant until she goes to a lecture one night in 1912 and is mesmerized by a radical journalist, John Reed. She leaves her husband and goes to Greenwich Village with Reed where she keeps writing, covering the 1913 Armory Show of post-impressionist paintings from Europe. Reed is so wrapped up in changing the world that Louise leaves him for awhile and stays with the great playwright, Eugene O’Neill. She returns to Reed. He goes to Russia and covers the 1917 Revolution. She never forgets Reed, the only American to be buried next to the Kremlin wall. –TRFF
It might have been easy to write off American actor Warren Beatty as merely the younger brother of film star Shirley MacLaine, were it not for the fact that Beatty was a profoundly gifted performer whose creative range extended beyond mere acting. After studying at Northwestern University and with acting coach Stella Adler, Beatty was being groomed for stardom almost before he was of voting age, cast in prominent supporting roles in TV dramas and attaining the recurring part of the insufferable Milton Armitage on the TV sitcom Dobie Gillis. Beatty left Dobie after a handful of episodes, writing off his part as “ridiculous,” and headed for the stage, where he appeared in a stock production of Compulsion and in William Inge’s Broadway play A Loss of Roses.
The actor’s auspicious film debut occurred in Splendor in the Grass (1961), after which he spent a number of years being written off by the more narrow-minded movie critics as a would-be Brando. Both Beatty… read more
Lungo, lunghissimo, ed anche interessante, non lo nego. Ma Warren Beatty lo odio discretamente.
I made it up to the intermission then told myself, "stop pretending you care,"
Beatty's best outing as a director though not his best performance (Keaton and Nicholson steal the film). I can't believe this was made in the Reagan 80s. The use of the interviews with the "witnesses" was very well done (nice to see Henry Miller in there too).
"According to estimates, at least 50 percent of all films made for public exhibition before 1951 have been lost," writes Marilyn Ferdinand