Still, you could argue that's a deliberate choice by the filmmakers to draw attention to the artifice you're watching, utilising yet another fourth - wall smashing device to point
the finger at the audience and cry out Mark Twain's words: «Never let the truth get in the way of a good story».
Not exact matches
«But for me, it's important to share that statistic when speaking with Protestant
audiences so that they stop pointing their
fingers at the Catholic Church and engage more with their own church.»
In the closing moments of Thursday night's Southold Town Deer Forum
at the Peconic recreation center, a member of the
audience pointed a
finger at Supervisor Scott Russell and asked what the town's going to do about the deer population.
This point was rammed home to me as I sat in agonized silence,
fingers sporadically jammed into my eyes, while
audience members laughed
at the latest shockingly boring Melissa McCarthy / Ben Falcone cringe machine.
Opening with a series of abstractions that seem like Glazer sticking two
fingers up
at an
audience expecting a sexed - up «Species» re-do, the next couple of hours parcel out some of the most spectacular, searing images I can remember on the big screen, with DoP Daniel Landin showing a Gordon Willis - like capability for photographing darkness, and one FX - aided image in particular proving especially haunting.
Whilst the central characters all get their conflicting say, all are equally ridiculed, reviled, and respected in a film that doesn't so much mock its subjects as much as point the
finger of shame and blame
at us, the
audience, fascinated by this tabloid tale of greed, violence and figure skating.
Like Andy Cohen crossed with Dame Edna, Stanley Tucci is a scream as Caesar Flickerman, the telecast's fairy godfather of an emcee, who essentially solves the film's expository problems while pointing a cheeky, meta
finger at not just the in - text
audience, but us too.
It was an incredible experience (despite the fact that the
audience probably laughed more than they should've) and I've kept my
fingers crossed for more March goodness
at future events.
by Walter Chaw Tom Green's Freddy Got
Fingered is the most startling debut since Luis Buñuel's Un chien andalou, with which it has a few things in common: both are constructed with a wilful disdain towards narrative; both are aimed
at the outer limits of shocking imagery; both display an open hostility for the cultural status quo; and both joke on their
audience's entrenched preconceptions of film form.
La La Land: Damien Chazelle's love letter to Hollywood came into TIFF with more heat than any other film: It infatuated
audiences at the Venice Film Festival, where Emma Stone won a best actress award, and continued to wrap North American critics around its lithe little
finger in Toronto.
Slowly he pointed his
finger around the room
at the Realtors in the
audience.