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In the middle of the night, when there's no one else...
Several lost-soul night-owls, including a nightclub owner, a talk radio relationship counselor, and an itinerant stranger have encounters that expose their contradictions and anxieties about love and acceptance.
Looking for connection in a lonely night that could only exist in movies. Still perfect after all those years. Every detail, every scent of artifice just add up to more intrigue an the cast remains first rate. Between this and Trouble in Mind, Rudolph pretty much tried to reedem mainstream 80's American cinema by himself in less than 4 hours and mostly succeed.
Is to screwball comedy what One from the Heart is to the musical, with hints of DePalma (or is that just a Bujold-inspired echo of Obsession?) and Hal Hartley (feel like you could find all of Trust and Simple Men in that single take of Carradine and Warren in the car, traveling back and forth, one deliriously romantic close-up to another). Pink and blue neon, psychic movie posters and Teddy Pendergrass. John Larroquette plays a bartender named Billy Ace. He rides a motorcycle. He doesn't need a helmet.
I've never seen a movie like this, a screwball homage that fully transubstantiates the genre's breakneck pace and flaunted sexual mores into a more contemporary and ironically repressed context. That in an of itself is not without precedent (Bogdanovich, May and others others did it years earlier), but Rudolph completely mutates the pace along with the surroundings, maximizing the sense of despair that would erupt from the screwball if not given an animated outlet of expression. The film boasts many aesthetic delights—its openly quasi-musical, frequently plunges into giallo-esque reds—but both its comedy and its tragedy derive from the monotonous grind of the characters' lives and the way that their gnarled, interlocked romances only exacerbate their unfulfilled loneliness. At times it's…
"I'm beginning to understand myself better now. Entering a more normal phase. And I know that I remain my own worst enemy, but I also know that I am my own savior. Because freedom means responsibility... and believe me, I also know how easily desire can be converted to deed. Even when I close my eyes, I have to be careful of what I dream and how."
A movie opens with the exterior of a neon-lit lounge bar, patrons swaying seductively in the streets to a theme song by slow jam king Teddy Pendergrass. Colors in shimmering iridescence. What could be more perfect?
Three women meet at a crossroads in Alan Rudolph's Choose Me - Nancy (Geneviève…
the most underrated american film of all time? undoubtedly one of the greatest cinematic achievements of not just the 1980s but of all time, this film is truly something special. it's the kind of film that comes along once in a lifetime to take your breath away, a pure beautiful masterpiece. will go long on this sometime soon but for now i just want to say that keith carradine is one of the greatest performers in history because he conveys so much palpable emotional and detailed character work through a shrug or his posture, even when his face isn't in the frame, he's committing himself wholly to this character of his, like he's truly becoming him, which makes the romantic gestures even more special, you really believe that he means them.
Picky, yet lascivious, you tend to your patrons. The nightflies that float in on mauve midnights under passionate neon. Tempestuous disdain in placid desire—just another evenin’ in the city of angels walking the street: you inside, them out. For you, forbidden fruit tastes no different from any other. It’s all the same so long as the juices flow. Big ripe passionfruit or little rotten apple. Take another bite. Maybe one day you will find one that was grown with you in mind.
Crazy man. Who the hell are you anyway? Spy? Motorhead? Yale professor? Or flunkie from the school of sloped floors with a tiny drain in the center? A…
Ooooh baby, sex is a devious drug. Once the sax kicks in and Teddy Pendergrass starts singing, all bets are off. We’ll go home with anyone. Keith Carradine is the real therapist exorcising sexually repressed demons tonight. Savagely devours every woman he sees with his word smithery, but manages to make every kiss special. He’s bad boy lounge crawler.
This movie knows exactly what it is doing. So heavily drenched in noir allegory, atmosphere to make you feel like the neon-lit night never ends, dialogue that confirms you’ve been drinking tonight, and a soundtrack to just die for. This movie all around slaps for those who love the grimy tongue-in-cheek sensuality of the genre — primal urges being suppressed beneath…
everything falls somewhere between seduction & deception. seems to nail the inconsistencies of desire — smooth-talking but fumbling over our actions. always playing catch-up while pretending you are one step ahead.
Hey, when the fuck did this become my vibe??? I’m not mad, just fucking confused. Feels like it happened out of nowhere. But every single thing about this was just flicking a button in my brain going “nice” over and over. The smooth gliding shots lingering in saddened misery; the BEAUTIFUL score/soundtrack, that’s never anything but perfect; greatly distinct characters that are interesting, boosted by compelling performances across the board; and, again, a general vibe to die for. From it’s opening moments, it asserts you to fall in, and just enjoy the ride. Something just outside of our world; like a lonely, sad, dream; a movie through and through. Everything revolves around the conflict of the title; choice, and…
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