Not exact matches
I would eat the hell out of that roasted bell pepper and your garlic
closeup is pretty amazing
too.
I mean, how many different angles, poses, and
closeups do you really need before it just becomes overkill and starts to feel way
too self indulgent?
Just Johansson — mostly in extreme
closeup — looking slightly blank at first, then a little uncertain, and finally afraid — as, perhaps, she begins to feel the emotions of the human she's pretending to be now slowing becoming her emotions,
too.
past work as a photographer explains the stunning picturesque landscapes (the snowy fields of Sweden and the winding roads of hilly Italy), which keeps the viewer's interest from lagging during the down times when the story stagnates and when there are
too many long
closeups of a brooding Clooney instead of any action.
Then there is the hand - held camera point - of - view that relies on far
too many extreme
closeups early in the picture (thankfully, this feature does not continue after about the first 30 minutes).
After
too many
closeups of her chest, Squints finally takes the plunge into the deep end, hoping to be rescued.
Yorick Le Saux's lensing is crystal clear, providing Mr. Gere with the
closeups that his fans live for, Douglas Crise's editing is never choppy (no martial arts fights or general mayhem that loses impact from
too many cuts per second), and Cliff Martinez's music is never overbearing but just enough to add suspense to a plot that already builds to a crescendo before winding down in the final moments.
Wainwright's visual style careens into overkill during the quieter scenes; there are one
too many shots of drops of blood falling into water, not to mention some unnecessarily emblematic
closeups of menial things, such as coffee being poured into a cup.
It's almost bizarre that Peter Morgan — who wrote the screen version,
too — initially conceived this story as a stage play, because there's no way that the stage can truly be about something so filmic as the «reductive power of the
closeup.»