The real crux of Aubrey and Maturin's friendship, what makes Master And Commander so rich in general, is the way in which the film challenges their relationship and also kind of has an answer for a very a la mode question: how do people with different political beliefs get along?
In terms of 21st century pairings, it's hard to find an actor-director collaboration that rivals Keira Knightley and Joe Wright in terms of thematic continuity, matched sensibilities, and a mutual evolution in storytelling.
In Noah Baumbach's earliest films—Kicking and Screaming, Mr. Jealousy, and Highball—Carlos Jacott, in particular, feels like an old friend.
Hepburn and Grant tumble toward happy endings through chaos and adventure, misunderstandings and trickery, all with an effortless grace.
It’s the idea that belief and science are incompatible—that Mulder and Scully are intrinsically at odds—that opens The X-Files. But what drives it, what makes it work for now and forever, is the realization that, in the end, it’s all the same hail-mary prayer.
Perhaps it’s a cop-out to start a piece about Mommy on your own mother. You stick with it, because you don’t see any other way—when you love someone, you see their face everywhere, so of course everything you write leads back to her.
Bugs and Daffy aren’t all that opposite; Bugs and Daffy just want to be bodies. When collided, they have tremendous chemistry: one unflappable and unflappably committed to mischief, the other subject to seismic outcry at the first whiff of mischief, equally committed to dishing it back in full.
While Bill Forsyth has described his adaptation of Housekeeping as transcribing Marilynne Robinson’s language into some kind of filmic form, this undersells his ability to express the visual rhythms of sisterhood onto the screen.