Bright Star

If ever poetry and film could intertwine, this would be it. Bright Star is a slow, dreamy, emotionally luscious film that, like all good poetry, still has a sting beneath all the flowery prose. What kind of sting? The sting of death, of poverty, or reality. What kind of great poet dies at 25, as Keats did? What a waste. But maybe it's the impending knowledge of your own mortality that brings out great poetry. It's really that mystery that makes Bright Star interesting. And to see, as always, the women behind the great men. The muse. The heart.

I liked Bright Star- it was hard to love. It's not at all what Hollywood grooms audiences to like. It has a very slow pace. The scenes are all about the dynamics between people, the power of words in a pale, light washed room. And most of all, it's about the clash between love and reality- not really Hollywood's thing. But it's my cup of tea.