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New York Post
Jan 22 2011
Sundance 2011: "HERE"
3:27 AM, January 22, 2011 é By KYLE SMITH
Can words describe the anti-scintillation that is "HERE" -- not
"Here," that wouldn't be artsy enough -- the Sundance non-favorite
about map-making in Armenia? I'll try.
The fussbudget actor Ben Foster plays an American in Armenia who, for
two grueling hours, wanders the desolate land surveying, entering
data, and occasionally sending an email. Long stretches go by without
dialogue. At one point he drinks strong vodka. He meets an Armenian
hottie. After 45 minutes of being dull, they have sex. They wander
around. At the beginning, and every two hours or so, a punishingly
pretentious monologue is spoken by Foster as unsettled images play
across the screen. Amoeba carnival? Maybe. Pink Floyd light show?
Almost. Student-film freakiness? Definitely. "Truth is conjecture,"
Foster says, reading off immensely meaningless words by
writer-director Braden King and co-writer Dani Valent. Deep, man.
Foster and the Armenian chick trade banal dialogue. They make out a
little. They wander some more. Time for another spacey monologue: "The
astronomer carries a veil of pure darkness." And so on for several
more minutes. Wow.
If I hadn't had 350 milligrams of caffeine juking through my veins I
would have taken a well-earned nap. Obviously I would have walked out
as soon as possible, but I was landlocked in the middle of a row at
the Library Theater. So I waited, a prisoner of cinema, for the film
to be over so I could reclaim my life. Foster gets an email from his
bosses in California, warning that his surveying stinks. He gets an
email from HQ: this project, he is told, is a "near-total loss." Near?
http://www.nypost.com/p/blogs/movies/sundance_here_WGd1Mm3khQXYFzTkjMajwL
From: A. Papazian
Jan 22 2011
Sundance 2011: "HERE"
3:27 AM, January 22, 2011 é By KYLE SMITH
Can words describe the anti-scintillation that is "HERE" -- not
"Here," that wouldn't be artsy enough -- the Sundance non-favorite
about map-making in Armenia? I'll try.
The fussbudget actor Ben Foster plays an American in Armenia who, for
two grueling hours, wanders the desolate land surveying, entering
data, and occasionally sending an email. Long stretches go by without
dialogue. At one point he drinks strong vodka. He meets an Armenian
hottie. After 45 minutes of being dull, they have sex. They wander
around. At the beginning, and every two hours or so, a punishingly
pretentious monologue is spoken by Foster as unsettled images play
across the screen. Amoeba carnival? Maybe. Pink Floyd light show?
Almost. Student-film freakiness? Definitely. "Truth is conjecture,"
Foster says, reading off immensely meaningless words by
writer-director Braden King and co-writer Dani Valent. Deep, man.
Foster and the Armenian chick trade banal dialogue. They make out a
little. They wander some more. Time for another spacey monologue: "The
astronomer carries a veil of pure darkness." And so on for several
more minutes. Wow.
If I hadn't had 350 milligrams of caffeine juking through my veins I
would have taken a well-earned nap. Obviously I would have walked out
as soon as possible, but I was landlocked in the middle of a row at
the Library Theater. So I waited, a prisoner of cinema, for the film
to be over so I could reclaim my life. Foster gets an email from his
bosses in California, warning that his surveying stinks. He gets an
email from HQ: this project, he is told, is a "near-total loss." Near?
http://www.nypost.com/p/blogs/movies/sundance_here_WGd1Mm3khQXYFzTkjMajwL
From: A. Papazian