A drama exploring the romantic past and emotional present of Ann Grant and her daughters, Constance and Nina. As Ann lays dying, she remembers, and is moved to convey to her daughters, the defining moments in her life 50 years prior, when she was a young woman. Harris is the man Ann loves in the 1950s and never forgets.
Jenny, a young American woman, moves to Paris and gets involved with Jack, who is seemingly the man of her dreams. However, he has a lot to hide and Jenny quickly gets entangled his dangerous lifestyle.
The love which binds mother and daughter -- seen through the prism of one mother's life as it crests with optimism, navigates a turning point, and ebbs to its close. Overcome by the power of memory, Ann Lord reveals a long-held secret to her concerned daughters; Constance, a content wife and mother, and Nina, a restless single woman. Both are bedside when Ann calls out for the man she loved more than any other. But who is this "Harris," wonder her daughters, and what is he to our mother? While Constance and Nina try to take stock of Ann's life and their own lives, their mother is tended to by a night nurse as she journeys in her mind back to a summer weekend some fifty years before, when she was Ann Grant, a young woman who has come from New York City to be maid of honor at the high-society Newport wedding of her dearest friend from college, Lila Wittenborn. The bride-to-be is jittery, and turns to her maid of honor rather than her own mother for support. Ann stays close to her friend... Written by
When Ann and Buddy dance around the house, the recording playing is sung by Michael Bublé, who would not have been born, much less been recorded at that time. See more »
You know what you've got? You have got a talent for love. You're like a love genius. And there are too many statues of generals and politicians, and there are not enough statues of someone like you. In this world, there is so much of what looks like love, and sounds like love, and calls itself love, but it isn't. It's just people saying and doing what they think they ought to say and do. And you, you, you, are the greatest. You're the greatest. You're the greatest. So here's to love, an-and, ...
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I often tried to write that I like movies. And there was always a huge number of words that were annoying and depressing me next time I read.
Only when I watched the film "Evening", I was able to formulate what I feel about cinema at all.
Even though, this copy of filmmaking absolutely has no shortage of the stars of the 'first' magnitude, and some people most likely consider, that there are too many of them, but I could say that this movie is not a masterpiece and it won't be shown on every March 8. I'm more than assured of it as well as of the fact that not every moviegoer has seen it, and an annotation doesn't appeal to those who are in search of an object for evening viewing.
And despite the fact that while viewing there were moments when I felt like a bird in a glass box, that is aware of the deplorable situation, but continues to beat its wings, burning the rest of the air and breaking its own heart, I think this film is beautiful. I can say more, even sadness has its own special beauty in this movie.
This work of cinematography has left its unique mark on the canvas of my soul, and now I have to look through it at the world.
A list of films that have left their trace is big enough and I'm happy that I feel what I feel.
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