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Being a big fan of P.T. Anderson's work since I saw `Boogie Nights' (about 3 times in one week at the theater) years ago, I anxiously awaited the release of his latest film. Then I heard it starred Adam Sandler, who is one of my least favorite actors of all time, but even then I figured that if anyone is going to make me not want to start throwing things at Sandler's image, it would be Anderson. After all, he got me to respect Tom Cruise after seeing `Magnolia'. When I finally got to see the film this past weekend (after wanting to see the film for about a year) I wasn't disappointed, and I found that my trust was not misplaced. Anderson took Sandler and turned him into a sad sack who is so psychologically screwed up he would be an analyst's dream. Emily Watson is his perfect counterpart as a classy yet extremely quirky love interest. The content is pure P.T. Anderson. There are issues that are brought up that are completely bizarre and unexplained, and there are themes that are culled from real-life stories or incidents. Stylistically, it's a slight departure in that it isn't quite as flashy or `slick' as his last two films, but the bright primary colors that pervade the cinematography are absolutely beautiful. And instead of the steady 70's and 80's soundtrack that he usually utilizes, he kept it more simple this time, and just as inspired with the continuous running of `He Needs Me' from the `Popeye' soundtrack. That touch was not only fitting, but also simply brilliant. I love the work of P.T. Anderson, and was absolutely charmed and endeared to this film. Just like `Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind' isn't going to make me watch a Jim Carrey comedy, I'm still going to avoid Adam Sandler comedies like the plague, but I have to say that I respect him for his work in this film. This is the kind of romance film I like, and I recommend it to anyone who doesn't settle for the kind of romantic comedy/dramas that are churned out now by Hollywood.--Shelly

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"Punch-Drunk Love" is NOT a movie that most Adam Sandler fans can relate to because it's really not a comedy. However, unlike "Reign Over Me" (which was fantastic), this film does not have a traditional narrative. In many ways, it's like a hunk out of someone's life--both good, bad and mundane. It's really a film for particular people with particular tastes. After having seen it, I am not exactly sure WHAT I thought of the film or whether I'd recommend it or not.Adam Sandler plays a man who seems depressed and quite lonely. Instead of being a traditional character, he's just a guy who exists. Because of this, the movie starts off very slowly...VERY slowly. However, though the course of watching him, you see that beneath his very dull and placid exterior, there is some rage which occasionally pops out...but not often.Out of the blue, he calls a phone sex line. However, he doesn't want the lady to talk dirty to him--he just wants to talk to someone. This later causes VERY serious problems in his life. And, later, out of the blue, he meets a lady (Emily Watson) and they fall in love. How the two (as well as pudding) all fit together is VERY odd and very tenuous.Overall, a film with lots of nice parts and lots of dull parts--much like real life. I liked the film but felt a bit confused by it as well. Odd....truly odd.

A romantic comedy, the film is about Siu Min, a Budweiser girl who takes pity on Michael, an ethnic Chinese restaurateur from France drinking away his misfortune because his food is too sophisticated for (and thus unpopular with) the working-class neighborhood in which both work. Unsatisfied with spending her days as a beer girl, the ambitious Siu Min becomes Michael's partner in the restaurant business, and eventually falls in love with him. Michael, however, must reconcile his dream of traveling the world with his other dream of running a successful restaurant.

The uncouth, sunburned orchard-girls inspired him with revulsion as if they had been women of another race, creatures of an inferior genus. The young ladies of the city seemed to him peasants in disguise, with the narrow, selfish, stingy instincts of their parents. They knew the exact market price of oranges and just how much land was owned by each aspirant to their hand; and they adjusted their love to the wealth of the pretender, believing it the test of quality to appear implacable toward everything not fashioned to the mould of their petty life of prejudice and tradition.

She had given him a _duro_, one of those white discs which, in that atheistic age, so rarely ascended that mountain trail! And there the poor invalid sat at the door of the Hermitage, staring into her apron blankly, hypnotized by the glitter of all that wealth! _Duros, pesetas_, two-_pesetas_, dimes! All the money the lady had brought! Even a gold button, which must have come from her glove!

We learn of Churchill's ruinous stock market speculation circa 1929 and the inheritances he squandered; his gambling rousts at the casinos in Biarritz and Monte Carlo; the thousands of pounds he sank into the upkeep of Chartwell, his beloved country mansion in Kent; and the unceasing torrent of cash he poured into maintaining a first-rate cellar.

The lore holds that elephants can get drunk by eating the fermented fruit rotting on the ground. Books have been written asserting the truth of the phenomenon, and eyewitness accounts of allegedly intoxicated pachyderms have even been made.

Tackling the issue of piracy head on, the campaign delivered its message by using the channels where piracy happens: torrent and streaming websites. During the 2017 Metro Manila Film Festival, Globe uploaded copies of the participating films and other blockbuster Filipino movies online.

What shall we do with a drunken sailor? Why, put him in the dock and charge him under the Road Traffic Act, naturally. Lawyers admitted they could find no precedent for the case against Captain Oleg Filimonov, a 41-year-old Estonian, after customs officers found him intoxicated aboard his 17,000-tonne cargo ship, Torrent, after a drinking session. Instead, magistrates in Brighton convicted him under drink-driving laws.

The vessel was due to leave Newhaven at high tide, shortly after midnight. At 9pm, customs officers boarded the ship for routine checks and found him "heavily intoxicated". When they asked him to breathe into the breathalyser, Captain Filimonov, who has commanded ships for 15 years, refused and told them: "Go on then, arrest me." He admitted he had drunk several beers, gin and tonics and rum. Officers found a half-empty bottle of rum in his cabin fridge.

On a September night in 1974, the wet season was closing down andan encore of rain washed the streets of Monrovia, Liberia; a torrent of skyand trash--discarded slippers, supine roaches, maybe a lost crab. The rainstopped as abruptly as it started, as if a conductor had pressed his fingerstogether and cut the thundering chords, and then a film of humidity stretchedover the city, steaming the downtown party strip that ran from Carey Streetto Broad and Gurley. That night, The Maze--a small discotheque on MechlinStreet--was cramped. Some fifty people, a cut of high society, had gathereddespite the weather; women in draped dresses, men in suits with pocketsquares and bow ties. Nina Simone arrived at midnight, giddy on champagne andin the arms of a Liberian date. By then the umbrellas in the corner had longdried and a mirror ball was sending out spots of light, bleaching the redvelour curtains over and over. The speakers rang with imported soul anddisco: James Brown, The Temptations, twelve-inch records from labels likeMotown's Gordy and Stax. Living for the City. Don't You Worry'Bout a Thing. Not long after Simone walked in, something got toher--the place or the drink, surely--and throwing her head back in laughter,she unfastened the button at her nape, peeled off her dress, and, as the menat the bar clapped and hollered, she danced until sun up, only putting herdress back on to leave. I found another piece, a videotape.

I listened to "Liberian Calypso" again and again. A 1982release from Simone's penultimate album, Fodder on My Wings, itisn't her most striking composition, yet there is something remarkableabout it: the story of an erotic dance, told through small and sweet lyrics("My joy it was so complete, you know. My friend was happy, he said,'Go! Go!'"). With its colorful chords and childlike verse("I danced for hours, hours on end. I said, 'Dear Lord, you are myfriend'"), almost all sensuality has been scraped away, exposingthe muscle below ("You brought me home to Liberia, and all other placesare inferior"). That night at The Maze, Nina Simone stripped right downto her bones. And the song she wrote about it is--rare for Simone--a lovesong without longing, a ballad to a land that set her free.

"When Nina came here, she fit in right away," he said."She was a very affable lady: highly educated, an entertainer. Herdaughter Lisa was just about the age of my only daughter, so they got alongvery nicely. And Nina loved Africa, she loved Liberia in particular. Thecountry was glorious in those days. People from all over the continent cameto Liberia to get a taste of America, just as they went to Cote d'Ivoireto see what France would be like."

"Nina and I would share the piano stool at my father'shouse, and she'd blow smoke all over the keys," Tolbert said."She loved Bach, Beethoven, jazz, but she also taught me to play some ofher songs. She swore like the devil." He added: "More than anythingI remember her eyes. There was so much power in them, something furious andwild. They had some kind of spell."

In Liberia, Simone shook off the shackles of fame, but kept itsprivileges. She was given a cook, a gardener, a driver; Lisa was enrolled inthe American school. She spent much of her time at Congo Beach, where sheloved the sea and the cotton trees, the way the soft evening light spreadabove the bay like butter, the fingers of the palm fronds that reached up tothe gods. And when the rainy season came--bruised clouds, the beat ofcoconuts on sodden sand, the stripes of lightning that cut through thenight--she loved that, too. The Liberian sky was Simone's looking glass.


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