The Dancer Upstairs
Saw The Dancer Upstairs last night. I liked it very much: wonderful faces (now I really do need to get out my thesaurus and find some other words of praise besides wonderful and marvelous and terrific; "awesome" isn't in my vocabulary, so don't be looking for it, unless I'm knocked flat on my back by a thunderously magnificent spectacle of God and nature).

I usually agree with the Dallas Morning News reviews of films, but here I can't. The reviewer had described it as a mood in search of a plot, but it had a fairly straightforward and easy to follow plot.

Great scenes and color; good cast of characters with expressive faces and bodies. Javier Bardem delicious as usual with his carefully modulated voice and eyes that make you want to follow him anywhere.

Fun in that it was in English, most actors speaking English as a second language, all written material in the movie in Spanish, and some in Chinese. For somebody who knows English, Spanish, and Chinese, it was supremely comfortable. For the Dallas reviewer it was obtusely enigmatic.

Lovely scenery and sets and performances within the movie; wide assortment of "ethnic" faces; perfect manicures not in evidence as much as in Hollywood. The only people with perfect manicures were those whose manicures said something about their priorities -- a part of their characters.

I am fortunate to have landed in a place where the closest three theatres are all multi-screen indie theatres!