The Worst Film Ever

The film makes a home in your brain and the only cure is to see it again.

This is one of the few movies I've ever seen where the whole audience broke into spontaneous, loud applause a third of the way in.

Not sure how, but this is easily one of the best movies all summer. Multiple levels of funny, never takes itself seriously, super colorful, and creative.

An existential parable of a wistful journey to ones heady youth with the excitement and bitterness of the time trapped in the mind. A former romance is re-evaluated by the rose coloured filter of time but confronted by the present. Time has moved on but the past has trapped the author. This is wonderfully written and played. Apparently not one word was added or removed from the book/poem of the same name. The words and style encapsulated an era, a culture and a place. From my perspective it was authentic but for a North American audience the language may not travel as well.To enjoy, ignore the characters they are not important, the moment you root for one character over the other the poem will fail (they are called He and She). What is important is the story of the words they are saying to each other. For me I strongly identified with the nostalgic myopia. However I wonder how a younger audience would embrace it? My only criticism was that the colour grading was a little cute.I was captivated by it.

A beautiful tale of two long lost lovers that doesn't fail to lift your spirit. Despite only being a short film I enjoyed it very much. Perfectly assembled with great cinematography which compliments the original poem greatly. The melancholy and passion between the protagonists were definitely sustained through out the film steering it away from titles bearing names such as Depressing-love-story-for-the-over-40s or a Horny- middle-aged-people-have-a-rendez-vous. No better actors could have been picked for this. A brilliant performance on behalf of both Alan Rickman and Emma Thompson who portray the characters exact to how I had imagined them to be. All in all 'tis a great film. However, I advise people to read the book first before watching the film.

I was watching PBS last night only to see that Masterpiece Contemporary is going to rebroadcast this next Sunday, which completely ruined my usual pleasant anticipation of what is to come next. I saw this last year when PBS first aired it, and not only was it a waste of time, it was so awful that the depressing awfulness stayed with me long after I watched it. If you really want to see the pointless waste of life and love come to its grimy, inescapable, petty and all-too-human end, watch this. If you want to be depressed and left feeling used after watching, you'll not be disappointed, I promise.But what's really sad is that two of the greatest actors in British theater -- both brilliant and even believable in this completely self-absorbed, anal-retentive, unceasingly self-obsessive string-of-consciousness piece of crap -- selected this dog to perform in anyway. I was struck by how luminous Emma Thompson still is and how beautifully she has aged, and Alan Rickman is, well, the delight that Alan Rickman always is. And yet even these two could not retrieve the show, or give any hope to their characters' existence.In fact, now that I think about it, it is entirely possible that their brilliant acting made it as bad as it was, but that just brings me back to my original point: brilliant "singers" but the "song" is still nauseating. If it's the excellence of Alan Rickman's acting that watching his character seriously reminds me of someone who obsessively studies their own boogers and scabs in private, that's not his fault, but proof of both his own talent and the complete uselessness of the character he's playing. Perhaps that's the art of the piece, but it's just not my cup of tea.I don't want to give spoilers; I will just say that the most extreme definitions one could ever place on the words "narcissistic" and "selfish" are understatements when applied to this plot and its dreary execution. The problem is NOT the actors, it's the play itself. It's depressing as hell and, for me, utterly pointless.Definitely read all the reviews before watching, because it may be that you are one of the folks who finds the art in this piece and would be absolutely delighted with it. I, unfortunately, am not. I love these particular two players in just about anything -- they could act the phonebook as far as I'm concerned -- but this play is just a depressing dog from start to bitter, useless end, and I felt honor bound to warn others.

It is not easy to transfer poetry to film. Poetry does not tell a story like a simple novel, with the plot explained in logical prose. Instead it approaches the subject sideways; with ideas, hints and suggestions with which, by enrichment from your own experience, you arrive at a shadowy glimpse of something profound about what it is to be human.This films achieves this in just the same way that a poem does. It is a brilliant film that I could watch over and over again, getting more from it each time. This is because the poem and film are catalysts to the beholder's share, which will be different each time I view as my mood changes, and my experiences grow.If you don't understand poetry then this film could be rather bleak, since it dwells on ageing, lost love, mortality and similar themes. If you accept that these themes are ever present in our daily lives and we have to come to terms with them, and you understand and enjoy poetry then this is a must see film for you.