A marvelous 10-car pileup of ostentatious art direction and dated fashion shows in search of reason for being, the sophomore effort from writer-director-hyphenate Madonna is a fascinatingly bad collision of good intentions and decent craftsmanship. By virtue of her near-indestructible pop icon status, everything Madge does automatically becomes a semiotics exercise, and so we’re left to ponder W.E. —a heartfelt, deeply personal and wildly self-indulgent vision issued from within an ivory tower. It’s like a costume drama hijacked by a Freudian confessional.
By Matt Prigge
Elvis Presley wanted to be an actor. Before music, his passion was movies, and as his star rose he spoke of attending the Actors Studio. He even insisted that any movie roles would be nonsinging. Alas, Colonel Tom Parker had other ideas, and ordered that his client’s debut vehicle include some crooning, even if his style of music didn’t exactly gibe with the setting: the Civil War.
Co-writer/director/co-star Valérize Donzelli’s film tells of a young couple whose newborn emerges into the world with a tumor—an ordeal that in reality happened to Donzelli and Jérémie Elkaïm, who co-wrote and stars as “himself.” (Their film is loosely “adapted” from the truth.)
There’s word that the joint is haunted. The ghosts’ potential authenticity sticks in the back of Claire and Luke’s minds but, largely, that’s where it stays. The majority of The Innkeepers busies itself depicting the kind of relationship that only exists between co-workers who’ve spent too much time together.
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