A train travels across Italy toward Rome. On board is a professor who daydreams a conversation with a love that never was, a family of Albanian refugees who switch trains and steal a ticket...
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A hundred and fourteen famous Iranian theater and cinema actresses and a French star: mute spectators at a theatrical representation of Khosrow and Shirin, a Persian poem from the twelfth ... See full summary »
Five sequences : 1) A piece of driftwood on the seashore, carried about by the waves 2) People walking on the seashore. The oldest ones stop by, look at the sea, then go away 3) Blurry ... See full summary »
A woman orders a suit from a tailor for her young son to wear to her sister's wedding. The tailor's apprentice, together with two other teenage boys who work in the same building, devise a ... See full summary »
A train travels across Italy toward Rome. On board is a professor who daydreams a conversation with a love that never was, a family of Albanian refugees who switch trains and steal a ticket, three brash Scottish soccer fans en route to a match, and a complaining widow traveling to a memorial service for her late husband who's accompanied by a community-service volunteer who's assisting her. Interactions among these Europeans turn on class and nationalism, courtesy and rudeness, and opportunities for kindness.Written by
The form of the text that the Italian pharmacologist is
writing on his laptop is inconsistent between the close-up shots and the longer-distance ones: the laptop is a Windows machine, and the longer-distance show the Windows operating system, but the close-ups are of the modern Macintosh operating system. See more »
This isn't a movie. It is a collection of unrelated, ill-conceived and poorly assembled scenes that look like the unedited results of a dim 10 year old with a mini-DV camera. In fact, I have a theory that the extremely abrasive girl in the train corridor - the one with the greasy hair, dead-pan stare, ipod and nervous tic - probably shot it herself in a creative phase.
If you made it further than the ten minutes I did, don't bother trying to fit what you saw into the context of the European Artiste mentality praised above. This is a true and complete waste of time, money and film that would have made William One-Shot Beaudine cringe.
The unfortunate part is that the endless series of vacuum-packed characters is representative of what now passes for much of humanity.
What's next? Six directors shooting social intercourse at the Wal-Mart snack counter?
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