My former co-workers remember me for my supposedly lousy movie recommendations.
Maybe my desert island film?
As a guise for what Hollywood couldn’t express, it’s wonderfully gleeful. For images that define noir, it’s filled to the brim, beginning with the opening noir shot. And for a vehicle that thrusts one of the most magnetic stars to ever grace the screen, it’s at the very top. The hair flip may be seeped into the mainstream, but it never loses its immediacy.
It’s firing on so many cylinders, even with a happy ending that isn’t all that happy.
Absent of the vast skyscrapers of New York and sprawling mecca that is Los Angeles, the inherent appeal for planting a camera in this city becomes clear as the documentary unfolds: Culture, not structures, often dictates Austin's cinema. The local sensibility breathes life into a cinema that doesn't feel possible elsewhere. Blizzard said, "It wasn't just about the dramatic change in architecture. There was something else going on here. These films really documented Austin's culture." It's a culture worn on…