Not the movie, but rather this review.
Dorothy Kilgallin once famously wrote the shortest review on record of a Broadway play: "The House Beautiful" is the play lousy.
I'm going to top her in brevity:
"Fourty Shades of Blue" blew.
My friends, it was an endless soap opera wherein well-dressed characters with a clean place to sleep and full bellies, along with servants to do the sh*t work and apparent good health, mope around and screw up their lives.
Nobody appreciates what the others have done for them, nor their blessings from On High. They're bored, as was I attempting to stay awake watching them.
In recent years, moviegoers have benefited from an obsession with pace by directors, resulting in many good scenes sacrificed on the altar of retaining viewer interest. Some appear on Deleted Scenes reels once the DVD comes out.
This depressing tear-fest just ambles along self-indulgently, ending not far from where it began, and robbing the viewer of an hour and 47 minutes of his or her life in the process.
If you get the DVD from your library (don't even think of wasting good money renting it), you'll be "treated" to a companion short by the same director, wherein an arrogant codger wheels and deals from his hotel bed in Russia, while apparently getting a little young artist 'tang on the side. I dunno. I watched the thing three times, but couldn't pay attention to it. The Beatle-coiffed sexagenarian was following a leggy pianist through the subway, and he might have scored. He looked happy enough the next day.
Dorothy Kilgallin once famously wrote the shortest review on record of a Broadway play: "The House Beautiful" is the play lousy.
I'm going to top her in brevity:
"Fourty Shades of Blue" blew.
My friends, it was an endless soap opera wherein well-dressed characters with a clean place to sleep and full bellies, along with servants to do the sh*t work and apparent good health, mope around and screw up their lives.
Nobody appreciates what the others have done for them, nor their blessings from On High. They're bored, as was I attempting to stay awake watching them.
In recent years, moviegoers have benefited from an obsession with pace by directors, resulting in many good scenes sacrificed on the altar of retaining viewer interest. Some appear on Deleted Scenes reels once the DVD comes out.
This depressing tear-fest just ambles along self-indulgently, ending not far from where it began, and robbing the viewer of an hour and 47 minutes of his or her life in the process.
If you get the DVD from your library (don't even think of wasting good money renting it), you'll be "treated" to a companion short by the same director, wherein an arrogant codger wheels and deals from his hotel bed in Russia, while apparently getting a little young artist 'tang on the side. I dunno. I watched the thing three times, but couldn't pay attention to it. The Beatle-coiffed sexagenarian was following a leggy pianist through the subway, and he might have scored. He looked happy enough the next day.