A Quiet Passion

Last night I watched A Quiet Passion. The things that were good about this movie tended to mask those that were terrible, but in the light of day the negative is winning. The considerable attention to detail to the house and environs was let down by too much unrealistic polish, and by many scenes of witty banter that were not as clever as intended — just awkward mostly. In the end the film did little to bring me closer to the poetry of Emily Dickinson, despite all of its forced artfulness, and depite the excellent Cynthia Nixon.

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