filmfluxtube Reviews

Departures (2008)

My greatest film experience in years

[10/10 · 1 October 2023]

Depatures understands that life is not one journey for one person, that it is something we all collectively share. That all humanity is one endless ocean, and that we, the people in our lives, and the love we feel for one another creates ripples that touch, entwine, and push far out beyond our comprehension.

Departures is about Daigo Kobayashi, an unemployed chellist who ends up respectfully and ritualistically preparing the bodies of the deceased to be placed in coffins, in an intimate ceremony in front of their families.

While reluctant and repulsed at first, Daigo sees the reverence in his bosses's work and the way that love and respect translates to the departed's families as they say their final goodbyes.

As he settles into his new career, Daigo returns to his cello. Music (and all art for that matter) is the only way to attempt to express our souls. Ideas and feelings we create at our birth and send beyond when we're gone.

Departures expresses itself purely in actions and feelings. When Daigo (played by Masahiro Motoki) goes to his first job, he can't verbally express all the feelings that stir from experience to his wife Mika (Ryoko Hirosue) when he comes home that night, because he hasn't admitted to her what he's doing for work. The desperate way Daigo embraces Mika speaks to everything we need to know about how he's feeling, and the way we all feel when confronted with the certainty of death, because it reminds us to grasp at life ferociously.

I will cherish that scene and this film as one of those rare lights in media, that will burn within me for as long as I'm able to carry it. And when I'm gone, it will continue to remind us to live, and love, and release our souls to the stars, and beyond.

The Many Saints of Newark (2021)

Doesn't quite feel like a self-sustained movie

[6/10 · 15 February 2022]

There's a certain quality to the Sopranos TV show. Most shows have a purposeful feel to them. A character wants something and needs something else, and we spend the episode watching them pursue it, while the overall plot for the season marches on. Sopranos feels more often like a window into the lives of the characters. Yes they often have needs and wants, but so often it feels like we're simply getting a seat to view their lives. They discuss their lives with a familiarity we lack. Both their language and often, the context.

The Many Saints of Newark follows that tradition. I'm not sure if any of the characters have a specific need or want, nor is there necessarily an antagonist to stop them. And yes, Tony Soprano's past gets featured here, but not his rise to crime, maybe simply his first considerations of it. Primarily we watch Christopher Moltisanti's father, Dicky Moltisanti. Dicky makes some moves, has a few altercations with a rival gang, acquires a goomad, debates his life, and is an example for young Anthony Soprano.

But plot-wise, that's about all there is. There's still arguably the Sopranos-like commentary on the people behind the mob, the nature of violence and humanity, but it doesn't quite feel like a self-sustained movie anyone could go see. By the time I got to the end I was still wondering, "what are we doing here?"

Once Upon a Time in America (1984)

Once Upon a Time in America breaks innocence down in a masterful, but uncomfortable way

[8/10 · 15 February 2022]

Once Upon a Time in America is a gangster film set during the prohibition as the main character, Noodles, and his gang of friends run their schemes. It is told predominantly in flashback at various points in Noodles's life; as a kid, as a young man, and as an old man.

There's nothing quite like an epic. Every film has its own world that it designs and pulls you into, but in an epic that design is so much more palpable. Once Upon a Time in America helps create this design not only by its on-location sets, but in how the film takes its time to breathe in its scenes. Full minutes of characters not speaking help create a chasm for a viewer's interpretation. The scene Noodles returns to his hometown after thirty years, will remain my favourite. His old friend, Moe, wants to hug him after all this time, and when Moe reaches in, Noodles interrupts that he brought back the key to Moe's clock. It's a great early scene that sets up a lot of the texture of the film, and establishes the questions that the film will slowly reveal.

It is, at times, a brutal world that creates an interesting relationship with the audience. Tarantino said of the characters in the film, "the weight of what they're doing never rests completely in your heart." To some degree, I agree with that. I think part of the rich texture director Sergio Leone is able to create almost seduces you away from the brutality of what's happening. But I don't think this will be true for all viewers. I think several of the scenes (particularly the rape scenes) will be forever problematic for viewers and pull them out of the experience, if not their ability to create empathy with these characters.

The world the film portrays is so foreign. A world where, young women are prostitutes who accept money or pastries. Where children are beaten and shot. The section of the film when Noodles and his friends are young, are perhaps the most empathetic. Once Upon a Time in America's great work is then to take that innocence, and break it down in a masterful, but uncomfortable way.

The Sweatbox (2002)

A missed opportunity

[7/10 · 15 February 2022]

The Sweatbox is a fascinating look into life cycle of a Disney production. I knew that Disney was extremely focused on story, but I didn't know that they were so focused that they would throw out an entire score, twice, and completely rewrite a story that had been in production for over a year.

The basis of this makes a good foundation for a documentary. You get to see a world you don't normally see, and there are continuous conflicts.

I make film essays on YouTube, which means I sometimes make mini documentaries. Deep into the research process, you often have all these threads and tangents that need to be sewn together. You need an overarching narrative. And it helps if that overarching narrative has some kind of emotion tied to it because that emotion creates an attachment in an otherwise purely informative piece. You could create this emotion from the interviews with your subjects, or you could decide on your own, and guide the narrative of the film there.

The Sweatbox doesn't pick a particular emotion. Its narrative is that we're going to watch where the production started and where it ended. There's this really interesting emotional thread where the first director of the film gets his initial vision destroyed. And then he leaves the production, presumably. This is the strongest emotional thread in the film. How did he feel about the film that was finished without him? How did his life change after that? This is the emotional story behind a troubled, completely overhauled film production.

Instead we get footage of responsible adults who accept their jobs are sometimes to create things that change or die. They reflect in logical, unemotional ways. And we march to the end of the film in an orderly fashion.

365 Days (2020)

Who is this movie for?

[1/10 · 15 February 2022]

This movie would be laughably funny if it didn't have such a troubling portrayal of women. The movie makes many poor, questionable decisions, but the thing I can't stop asking is: who is this movie for? If it is for women, how can they overlook so much of the movie's actions and plot? If it is for men, why the scenes with the shopping and spa days? If it is erotica, why does it seem to hate sexual acts so much?

I guess the movie is not for me, which is why I have such trouble understanding its intended audience. Which, overseas, was troubling vast.

Little Women (2019)

In a story about the unremarkable nature of our lives, Little Women makes all our lives matter

[10/10 · 15 February 2022]

One of the most remarkable things about Greta Gerwig's Little Women is that it is not told in a linear, chronological fashion. It unfolds similar to how memory unfolds -- through feelings. When we walk down a familiar street in our hometown, we think of moments in the past when we walked up it. When we feel ugly, we worry about a future where no one loves us. And when we think about someone we've lost, we remember how happy we were when they were alive.

Little Women carries from one scene to the next, one character to the next, constantly flitting through time, but always tied by emotion.

In a story about the unremarkable nature of our lives, Little Women makes all our lives matter in how its story is told. Its narrative structure communicates a larger message: that no one life is more important than another. That our lives are significant not because of our own personal little stories, but in the larger one we tell together.

The Mortal Instruments: City of Bones (2013)

A breakneck, uncaring pace

[5/10 · 15 February 2022]

City of Bones asks a lot of questions it doesn't answer. What's that symbol? What makes its main character special? Why is that man wearing no pants?

I imagined if you had a friend who had read the books you could stop the movie every two minutes, ask your questions and resume, but I don't think it would have been as fun that way.

There's an inadvertent amusement in how much the movie expects you to swallow before it even bothers to give you a premise. The, "Yer a wizard Harry" scene doesn't come until at least half an hour in, and it gleefully skips through it quickly, missing plenty of details.

In the midst of that breezy scene was my favourite line. One character asks another about the male lead, Jace. "You know, Jace has got a real chip on his shoulder," he remarks. And the casual reply: "You would, too, if you saw your father murdered when you were a child."

It really speaks to the pace of City of Bones. "Hello, my name is Jace. My father was murdered when I was a child. Now come with me."

While amusing, the breakneck pace of it all means it's more difficult to care about the characters or the stakes. After about an hour my wife asked me, "What's the main character's name?"

I wasn't entirely sure.

Godzilla vs. Hedorah (1971)

A unique, bold, artistic approach, or an insufferable mess

[4/10 · 15 February 2022]

There's a lot going on in Godzilla vs. Hedorah. One could view it as a unique, bold, artistic approach, or an insufferable mess.

In the film, Godzilla battles Hedorah, a monster created by pollution. Similar to how Godzilla (1954) was about nuclear fears, Godzilla vs. Hedorah is about a fear of unfettered pollution. In the book, Japan's Green Monsters: Environmental Commentary, authors Sean Rhoads and Brooke McCorkle suggest that the film is also a critique of Japan's economic state: as Japan's economy grew, would they continue to grow the economy without care for the environment, or grow the economy in a more sustainable way? The authors also suggest the film discusses the "role and power of the government in Japan; the impotence of the JSDF for Japan's protection; the pervasiveness of television in daily life; and the place of the counterculture and hippies and their inability to bring about meaningful change." It is also a message to Japan's children. The main character is a boy named Ken who idolizes Godzilla and sees him as the solution to Hedorah.

Sometimes the film explores these ideas in experimental ways. Animated sequences, a psychedelic scene in a night club where young club goers have fish heads, a sequence where TV sets featuring individual faces and dialogue continuously multiply, and an almost Bond-esque original song that laments pollution, while featuring images of various items floating in sludgy water.

Challenging stuff. There's also a bizarre quality to the fights where we see Godzilla framed, not advancing, and Hedorah framed not advancing. Then different framing, not advancing. Repeat.

Amongst audiences, the film is very divisive. Godzilla fans and non-fans alike either appreciate Banno's approach, or hate it. Apparently director Yoshimitsu Banno was fired after this for "ruining Godzilla." And while I appreciate what Banno was trying to do, I'm afraid I agree.

Godzilla vs. Mechagodzilla (1974)

The zenith of the Showa era

[8/10 · 15 February 2022]

Excluding the original (which is its own thing) Godzilla vs. Mechagodzilla is the zenith of the Showa era.

The series - and possibly director Jun Fukuda - found something in Godzilla vs. Gigan. One of my favourite shots of Godzilla vs. Mechagodzilla is of Godzilla in the foreground, stumbling amongst flames and smoke, as Mechagodzilla stands unscathed in the background.

From the start of the series, Godzilla has seemed invincible. "What could harm a creature created by an atomic blast?" But here Godzilla struggles -- he bleeds. He loses to Mechagodzilla at first. And that difficulty Godzilla must overcome makes the monster fights a little more engaging.

And that kind of struggle filters to the rest of the film as well. The humans seem desperate. More than once, when they encounter the aliens controlling Mechagodzilla, they fight to the death.

The actor playing the alien leader (Goro Mutsumi) is also the best villain we've seen. Gone are the robotic aliens from Ghidorah, the Three-Headed Monster. Mutsumi approaches the role with swagger as though all his opponents, both humans and Godzilla alike, are ants. He smokes cigars, and moves and speaks slowly. Why rush? There's no need to fear ants.

And the soundtrack by Masaru Sato is probably my favourite. Mechagodzilla's themes are filled with bouncing, happy drums, and ostentatious trumpets. It goes well with the fun mix of the film, that navigates its human and monster stories much better than the previous films of the era. Never lingering too long on either the human or monster plots, keeping both active.

This movie was my favourite when I was a kid, and it appears my tastes have not changed.

Godzilla vs. King Ghidorah (1991)

A pretty entertaining entry in the series

[6/10 · 15 February 2022]

In Godzilla vs. King Ghidorah humans (Futurians) come from the future to ask present-day earthlings permission to remove Godzilla from the past. The earthlings say, "sounds good, please proceed," and the Futurians do so, then unleash Ghidorah on present-day Tokyo.

Earthlings never learn.

This is a pretty entertaining entry in the series, especially if you like time travel stories, sci-fi, and monsters smashing Tokyo. Here Godzilla smashes Tokyo, then Ghidorah smashes Tokyo, then Godzilla smashes Tokyo again. Smash, smash, smash.

There's also this android from the future I really liked. He runs around a lot with these blurred backgrounds behind him. He's moving slowly, but backgrounds move fast. It's a pleasing effect.

I don't know why, but the films in the Heisei era of Godzilla are twenty minutes longer than those in the Showa era. My guess is, smaller budgets meant a shorter runtime. But part of me wants to believe director Ishiro Honda knew these films worked better lean. Personally I wouldn't mind a little less smashy smash.

Roma (2018)

The power of Roma is in the mudane

[9/10 · 15 February 2022]

Roma spends most of its time in the chores of Cleo's (Yalitza Aparicio) life as a maid. Cleaning the driveway, gathering the laundry, clearing the table, bringing the food, and turning off all the lights in the house before bed.

There's a quiet, seemingly unshakeable power to Cleo. Her duties seem numerous and run late into the night, but she does not seem burdened by them.

In a sequence where the children and their mother are watching TV, one of the boys puts his arm around Cleo as she sits next to him. She sits on a pillow on the floor; there isn't a space for her on couch. But gesture is wholeheartedly loving. When you are a part of each other's lives, there is more to your relationship than simply employee and employer.

These relationships are in stark contrast to the "men" in the film. They all reject family and only dedicate their time to themselves. Which is brutal in so many ways, particularly in how excited the children are to have their father simply return home.

This is where Roma's power lies. In the people we choose to spend our lives with, and the time we dedicate to them. Roma executes most of its runtime in simplicity, because the bulk of our lives exists in the mundane. Who we consider family are the people who both stand with us in that tedium, and in those times when the great meteors of our lives hit us, and it feels like nothing will ever be mundane again.

The Little Things (2021)

An exercise in dissatisfaction

[6/10 · 15 February 2022]

This kind of reminds me of Jarhead in that the film wants to communicate dissatisfaction. It succeeds. The question is, do you want to watch that?

The Little Things is about two detectives investing a serial killer case. Deacon (Denzel Washington) is an older, former detective who never solved and is haunted by the case. He's divorced, he is exiled, and he's not happy. Baxter (Rami Malek) is a younger detective who is just starting on the case. He's married, beloved by the brass, and hopeful. But they both want answers desperately.

Sometimes in detective work (I'm assuming) you don't have everything you need. You have your gut, you have your experience, you have circumstantial evidence, but it's not what you know -- it's what you can prove.

The Little Things explores that entire spectrum of truth. Everyone wants the bad guy to get caught, but sometimes desire supersedes truth and certainty. That's going to be unsatisfying for some viewers, but I think the film wants you to feel that way.

The Map of Tiny Perfect Things (2021)

The feel-goodiest time loop movie

[10/10 · 15 February 2022]

This is the feel-goodiest time loop movie out there. Most movies where characters are in a time loop involve a lot of death, but The Map of Tiny Perfect Things is too innocent for that. All it wants to do is make a map of its infinite world to appreciate every possible beautiful moment it can find. It's about seeing the world for what it can be, and seeing ourselves for what we can be.

I love the tiny ways the film defies time loop storytelling conventions. Like how the main character, Mark (Kyle Allen) continues to have a conversation with his friend Henry almost every day. Henry might have the same things to say, but Mark's life changes and Henry is a good listener.

Sometimes the film pushes the conventions a little too far, and has its characters accomplish a bit more in a day than they should be able to, or to perform tasks each day that don't necessarily make sense.

But the film doesn't care about making sense, it wants to 'feel' its way to a conclusion. That's not everyone's cheesy bag, but it most certainly is mine.

Godzilla vs. Megaguirus (2000)

The best Godzilla film for newcomers

[7/10 · 15 February 2022]

Because I wouldn't shut up about Godzilla, my wife generously offered to watch one with me. And even though she doesn't remember this, and even though I wouldn't do that to her, I find myself wondering as I watch the series, "would it be this one?"

And I think Godzilla vs. Megaguirus is it.

It's a little more frantic than other Godzilla movies. There are these bugs running around that create a couple of typical horror scenes. There's a story arc with a plucky Major who is out for revenge against Godzilla. There's a geeky scientist who has the hots for her and seems to be able to make anything. And they're trying to send Godzilla into a black hole, which might be bordering on "too much" Sci-Fi, but at least the viewer would be familiar with the basic idea of a black hole.

There's always something happening in this film. One story or another is advancing, and it feels like there's always a threat from somewhere. The final fight even has a goofy attack reminiscent of the Showa era. The film also has some effects I don't like, including this weird, frame skipping view through Megaguirus's eyes. But there's a unique finality to this one. A celebration. A complete storyline. They throw it all out in the last scene, but still, this could be the non-kaiju fan ticket.

Godzilla, Mothra and King Ghidorah: Giant Monsters All-Out Attack (2001)

Perhaps not the fan favourite Godzilla film

[5/10 · 15 February 2022]

This movie makes me feel like a Godzilla fan fraud. It's as though I just watched Hard Target and complained about how the mullet looked, or that there were "too many roundhouse kicks" and "too much action."

I'll re-watch it and possibly re-review it in the future. But for now all I have are nitpicky complaints that took me out of the experience. I don't like devil-eyes Godzilla. I didn't like the way he walked or the way he ran. I didn't like the CG. I didn't like how Godzilla just massacred everything, and that no kaiju stood a chance. Where's the drama in that?

I didn't even enjoy the pacing. Perhaps I enjoyed Godzilla 2000 and its glacial plot too much. I'm usually supportive of taking Godzilla in a new direction, but this time it just felt like, "this isn't my Godzilla." This is just an unstoppable demon trying to cover the Earth with hellfire. Godzilla has always had this glassy look in his eyes, and an almost vacant, animalistic purpose. He's just a big dumb lizard. He didn't mean to step on your house, your car, or your Mom. He didn't mean to destroy your pagoda. It just happened to be in his way, or was inbetween him and another monster. But this Godzilla? He did it intentionally.

Shane (1953)

A story about violence

[8/10 · 15 February 2022]

One of the most interesting ways to view Shane is through the lens of the boy in it, Joey.

The central conflict in Shane is established early on and spends the picture bubbling in the background. Shane arrives at Joe Strarrett's farm just as Ryker and his bullying henchmen show up. Joe tries to handle it himself, but Shane decides to stick around as a farm hand. All the while, we wait for Shane to handle the inevitable violence.

Joey idolizes Shane from the start. Initially, because Shane has a gun. "Bet you can shoot," he says. That's what Joey worships. Guns and gunplay and being tougher than the other man. Joey asks his dad if he could beat Shane in a fight.

Shane can't help but be taken in by the worship. It may be even part of why he decides to stick around, because his older, violent self is valued here.

We find Joey's thinking creep into Shane and Joe's actions. Shane deliberately shows off for Joey when he teaches him how to shoot. And appearing tough is part of Joe's reason for justifying heading into town to confront Ryker (a fight he knows he can't win). Joe tells his wife, "Do you think I could go on living with you, and you thinking that I showed yellow? Then what about Joey? How would I ever explain that to him?"

Here we have two men, one ashamed of his ability to do violence, one ashamed of failing to do violence in his wife and son's eyes.

Meanwhile, Marian wisely believes that the valley will be better off without any guns in it at all. She tells Shane, "guns aren't going to be my boy's life!" But as long as they (and what they represent) are what Joey idolizes, Joey's life, and the valley, will never be free from them.

Nomadland (2020)

Nomadland: the entire human experience is beautiful under the right lens

[10/10 · 15 February 2022]

Motivational speaker Les Brown talks about this idea that when we encounter tragedy or hardship in our lives, we park. We find a safe, mediocre space, park there, and refuse to move no matter what anybody says to us.

In Nomadland, Fern (Frances McDormand) lives in a van and works whatever odd jobs she can find. Many people consider her homeless. Vern says, "I'm not homeless, I'm just houseless. Not the same thing, right?"

Vern joins a support group for nomads, like minded people who also live on the road. She makes friendships and connections. Some move on down the road, and some leave the nomad lifestyle. Vern gets many invites throughout the film to make roots in a house. But when you're parked, anything that's outside your perceived safety bubble is terrifying.

When you're scared of permanent roots, you make tenuous connections with people. People with roots are painful reminders of a world where nomads don't belong. And while fellow nomads are the deepest, most valuable connections you have, by their very nature they can leave.

Director Chloé Zhao must understand being parked. There are so many moments filled with intimate stories from the people around Vern. Stories about suicidal thoughts, terminal cancer, failed relationships, and death. Zhao captures a tender duality of being a nomad. There's a scene where Vern walks through her new nomad community at sunrise; a long take that explores Vern's new landscape, and gives the scene a warmth through its music, and its distant light on the horizon. And then there are scenes where Vern is standing alone in front of a giant, imposing theatre, or sitting alone in an empty, dimly lit diner drinking a milkshake.

There is a lot of beauty and respect in Zhao's work. As someone who spent a number of years parked, I didn't feel exposed or threatened. Nomadland just felt like another reminder that the entire human experience is beautiful under the right lens.

Godzilla: Final Wars (2004)

Godzilla: Final Wars lacks wonder

[6/10 · 15 February 2022]

As a child perhaps the greatest thing about a Godzilla movie is the wonder. The size of the kaiju, the fantastical elements like the aliens that turn into Gorillas, and the lore of these established worlds. In the Showa era, wonder was bountiful. Think of the King Caesar song. There's a lot of passion in its performance that invites more wonder, and establishes connection. Does the song have to be earnestly sung for King Caesar to appear? As a child, I would have thought so.

Godzilla: Final Wars lacks some of that wonder. Somewhere within its conversations about M-Base, multiple kaijus, aliens, mutants, motorcycle chases, fight sequences, and spaceships, there could be wonder, but it's always moving onto the next thing.

Final Wars has an aesthetic that was common in the 2000's. Like Lara Croft: Tomb Raider (2001) and Death Race (2008). Quick cuts and intense action, but not in a fun way. And this weird combination of intense light and even harsher shadows. It's an angry, ugly aesthetic that is trying to look cool. Maybe it was back then. But it's an odd way to say goodbye to Godzilla.

That's the thing about ongoing properties: they are constantly being updated. Godzilla is approaching being a seventy year-old franchise. Much like comic book heroes, these franchises will always evolve past the time in our lives when we loved them the most. To be picked up by someone else, who will treasure the franchise anew. Maybe we don't need to say goodbye to Godzilla or other franchises. Maybe we just need to let them go.

The Librarian III: The Curse of the Judas Chalice (2008 TV Movie)

The Curse of the Judas Chalice - The Most Fun Librarian Movie

[7/10 · 15 February 2022]

My wife and I have been on a quest to find movies like National Treasure. Specifically, we were looking for something that had a lot of clue solving (where the characters made you part of their clue solving process), had some fun banter, and had an overall light, upbeat, and fun feel.

In this quest we've tried Romancing the Stone, Sahara, Fool's Gold, Lara Croft: Tomb Raider, The Da Vinci Code, Last Crusade, and Raiders. All those films (except The Da Vinci Code) are rather light on the clue solving. Someone on reddit suggested these Librarian TV movies to us. The first one actually had the most clue solving out of any of the movies we've seen, and might be closest to National Treasure, just with a kind of hokey, TV movie feel.

The Librarian movies are about Flynn Carsen (Noah Wyle) who becomes the latest in a long line of Librarians who guard a collection of nearly every fantastical, legendary artefact you can imagine: Excalibur, Pandora's Box, The Holy Grail, and the Goose That Laid the Golden Eggs. In each film Flynn must prevent a powerful artefact from getting into the hands of a bad guy and ending the world.

I've read a lot of reviews saying how the Librarian movies get progressively worse, but I don't find that to be true at all.

After Jonathan Frakes took over directing on Return to King Solomon's Mines the films have felt less awkward and more cohesive. Similar to how sometimes a TV show takes a few seasons to find its stride, the same is apparently true of TV movies.

The Curse of the Judas Chalice is definitely the most fun of the three. It accepts that it's a TV movie about finding magical treasure, and yea, it has vampires in it. But it also finds its rhythm. Awkward, cliched jokes from the first movie now have a punch and a charm. The film zips along with its catchy, infectious theme song. Lighter on the clue solving, but hey, they can't all be National Treasure.

Booksmart (2019)

A comedy that supersedes jokes and become an experience

[10/10 · 9 February 2022]

A select few comedy movies have an infectious glow. They fill you up. They supersede jokes, and become an experience. I can probably count on one hand movies I would put into this category. And I would count Booksmart among them.

In Booksmart, best friends Amy and Molly have spent their entire high school lives studying, and are determined to experience one night of partying before heading off to College.

There's a universality to stories about finishing high school. Whether its the awkwardness, or uncertainty, there's an inherent vulnerability to these stories.

Amy and Molly have the kind of transcendent friendship you can only have in high school. They spend every day together, they tell each other everything, they are over-the-top supportive and complimentary to each other, and they are as deeply in love with each other as platonic love gets. The kind of friendship yet unmarred by life.

It's hard to believe this is the directorial feature debut of Olivia Wilde. It's not easy to keep up the comedic energy as scenes flit from one location, or one madcap scenario to the next. But it succeeds because it always comes back to the friendship, which is the beautiful epicentre of the film.

After watching Booksmart I immediately recommended it to two of my best friends. Perhaps in part because I thought they would appreciate it, but also because I wanted to believe that we have the same love that Amy and Molly have.