![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() Though lengthy, his films are highly digestible. (I will never forget my first encounter with screen adaptations, Holes, though loyal to Louis Sachar’s words, cheapened into an exasperating and overdetermined entertainment.) In Drive My Car, Japanese director Ryûsuke Hamaguchi pressurizes the foundering emotional isolation in the Haruki Murakami story on which it is based to create an absorbing and discursive melodrama about communication, passivity, and regret.īest known for his five-hour epic Happy Hour that improbably recalled both Sex and the City and the films of Jacques Rivette, Hamaguchi’s chief cinematic concerns include the intimacies and banalties of life, the enigma of our impulses, and the nature of acting and roleplay. On that tendency, Andre Bazin wrote that “literal translations are not faithful ones” and to adapt a work for the screen requires the director to dream the story over. With film adaptations, there is a tendency for the source material to overshadow the director and for failures of fidelity to conquer the critical conversation. Billed Into Silence: Money and the Miseducation of Women. ![]()
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