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Harmon 2022-01-01 08:02:45
Personal tragedy and ethical problems
JOSAI
You shouldn't smoke, it'll kill you.
ERICA
I don't care.
JOSAI
There's plenty of ways to die.But you have to figure out a way to live. Now that's hard.
See Brother Coen’s No Country for Old Men, after being fierce, faced a sad and tired ending, but Neil Jordan’s The Brave One was... -
Alexys 2022-03-25 09:01:11
brave guy
Another revenge-themed film, mainly depicting the inner contradictions of the characters. Jodie Foster's voice is deep and hoarse, which is perfect for the film's melancholy dark atmosphere. Hearing her repeat "New York..." over and over again, a creepy feeling crept up her back. Indeed, big cities...
Musto Pelinkovicci
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Eliezer 2022-03-24 09:02:24
Jodie Foster really spends his life playing a role
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Dereck 2022-03-26 09:01:08
Amazed at Judy's transformation in the film, from the much-loved radio hostess to punishing murderers, a defender who walks at night, her acting skills are absolutely nothing to say, one point deduction is a little weak in the plot
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Erica: Now, who's the bitch?
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[first lines]
Erica: [voiceover, doing her radio show] I'm Erica Bain. And as *you* know, I walk the city. I bitch and moan about it. I walk and watch and listen, a witness to all the beauty and ugliness that is disappearing from our beloved city. Last week took me to the gray depths of the East River where Dmitri Panchenko swims his morning laps, like he has every morning since the 1960s. And today I walked by the acres of scaffolding outside what used to be the Plaza Hotel. And I thought about Eloise. Remember Kay Thompson's Eloise? Eloise who lived in the Plaza Hotel with her dog Weenie, and her parents were always away, and her English nanny who had eight hair pins made out of bones. That Eloise. The adored brat of my childhood.
[indistinct overdubs for a few lines here]
Erica: ... li'l punk kids... Sid Vicious spewing beer from his teeth in the Chelsea Hotel... Andy Warhol, his sunglasses reflecting... Edgar Allan Poe, freeing live monkeys from the crates of a crumbling schooner on the oily slips of South Street. Stories of a city that is disappearing before our eyes, its people swept over the Williamsburg of those stories. So what are we left of those stories? Are we going to have to construct an imaginary city to house our memories? Because when you love something, every time a bit goes, you lose a piece of yourself. Where's Eloise going to sleep tonight? Can you hear her ghost wandering around the collapsing corridors of her beloved Plaza, trying to find her nanny's room? Calling out to the construction workers, in a voice that nobody hears, "Has anyone seen my turtle, Skipperdee?" This is Erica Bain, and you've been listening to Streetwalk, on WKNW.
