Come un uragano

Nights in Rodanthe

Hollywood used to know how to make a lady suffer. It might have thrown her around a little and smudged her mascara, but it also gave as much as it took, delivering the pleasurable goods along with the pain. The emotions were as phony as the tears, yet with the right director, star or script, all that weeping could send an arrow straight through your heart. The audience worshiped Our Lady of Masochism for her misery but also for her triumph, for the mink swaddling her shoulder pads, for the 100 sobbing violins, for the celestial halo circling her head. [...]

di Manohla Dargis, articolo completo (3138 caratteri spazi inclusi) su The New York Times 26 settembre 200