Photographer Grif Henderson is assigned a photo shoot in Paris. He decides to take his wife, Jenny, and his hippie son, Davey, with him on the shoot. Everything gets mucked up when she ... See full summary »
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A man wearing an expensive gray suit finds himself in Central Park in New York City not knowing who he is or how he got there. His amnesia even extends to the fact that he doesn't know how he takes his coffee. All he has on his possession are a crumpled piece of paper wrapped around a couple of pills, the paper also with a scribbled telephone number. He is also wearing a ring with a broken stone, the ring engraved from its giver with his or her monogram, G.V. The telephone number takes him to a woman who doesn't know who he is. Based on what she calls him and some item association, he begins to call himself Sam Buddwing if anyone asks him. As he wanders New York City in a daze, he believes he may be an escaped mental patient based on a newspaper story, his clothes and the monogrammed ring. But a vision of a young brunette makes him remember a woman in his life named Grace. He manages to spend time with a few women during the day, many times he believing that woman is Grace herself. ... Written by
There is something deeply touching and oddly disarming about this wonderful film, but as the above poster comments, the film does not quite fulfill its remit.
I have watched this film on a number of occasions because of its sombre dream-like quality - the juxtaposition of slap-in-the-face reality and those almost womb-like immersions into Buddwing's memories.
The score is brilliant, the lighting dramatic and memorable.
The cast - brilliant, but it pains me to say this as a massive, massive fan of James Garner - he shows his limitations as an actor in this one.
Note the self-naming scene. "Bud.....wing.... I..have a name" too dozy, and that crying scene after he faced off with the madman who claimed he was god. Poor Jimmy looked like he'd be pepper-spayed.
However, because of Garner's form, I like this film even more. Garner's character should be vulnerable, extremely so, because of his predicament. To see Garner himself vulnerable and out of his league in the role works almost better than great acting would. And what was that look on his faced when Grace-2 asked him if was "one of those AC/DC types" ??
There's still something magical about Garner's presence. He's a winner.
The film comes across as a stage play adapted for film - a piece of beat poetry acted out by conservatives. Strange, half realized, surreal, and finally a flawed gem.
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