Then there’s the infuriating lack of response to Sara Ganim’s (Riley Keough) story. The townhouse sees its fair share of heated discussions, but none that can’t be silenced by the beckoning of its owner (or just him getting up to change seats). There’s also the quiet simplicity of Paterno’s home, which is modestly decorated and sparsely populated compared to the lavish halls of Penn State’s athletic facilities or the crowds chanting support on “JoePa’s” front lawn. Levinson introduces the fervor in its designated arena (the football stadium) early in order to contrast where that same passion doesn’t belong later on - the campus streets. Much of “Paterno” is told in contrasts, a film that moves quickly while holding back key revelations far longer than knowledgeable viewers might expect. The fans are loud, the teams are evenly matched, and above it all, calling plays from the booth due to a recent hip injury, is Paterno a god overseeing his domain. The opening segment throws us into a fall battle for Paterno’s record-breaking 409th win. At first, it’s easy to side with the coach who’s just trying to win a football game. “Paterno” starts as a football story and ends as a human rights story. That makes it timely, while the filmmaking makes it intense. Levinson’s film isn’t merely a condemnation of complicit inaction, but also of our instinctual reactions to fallen heroes. What begins as an immediate rejection of any blame put upon Paterno for the decades-long child sex abuse scandal - carried out by his former defensive coordinator Jerry Sandusky - slowly but surely shifts perspective as the facts are revealed. No matter your opinions coming in, “Paterno” is designed to engage the school’s most ardent supporters before breaking down why there’s no rationalization for what this coach did. That doubt sneaks up on you, much like the rest of the film. 'Only Murders in the Building' Season 2 Review: Hulu's Remodel Is a Bit Messy, but Still ShinesĤ5 Great Films Booed at Cannes, from 'L'Avventura' to 'Okja'ģ0 Disturbing Foreign Films to Watch, from Gaspar Noé to Takashi MiikeĪnd yet despite all of this - his frozen hand, droopy pajamas, and defeated exhalation - the question that immediately pops to mind isn’t an angry rebuke in defense of a respected coach ousted like some data entry temp. 'Loot' Review: Maya Rudolph Does Her Best in a Money Comedy That Invests in the Wrong Places It’s not a deep sigh more like a thoughtful “huh.” He walks to the bed, sits down, and sighs. His hand dangles, unmoved from when it was still holding the receiver, as she redials the number and says, “After 61 years, he deserved better.” Paterno in this moment is a pathetic figure so far removed from the legend he built himself into that his wife is the only one fighting back. Joe, wearing his blue pajama bottoms, keeps walking, but Sue stops him in the bedroom and takes the phone. “They fired me,” he says to his wife, Sue (Kathy Baker). He lifts the receiver to his ear, says his name, listens briefly and then hangs up. #Movie patterno portable#Delivered a letter with a phone number inside, Joe Paterno ( Al Pacino) shuffles down the hallway toward his bedroom and dials his portable landline. In the final act of “ Paterno,” HBO’s crackling examination of the Penn State football coach’s legacy-defining final days, there’s a pivotal scene that draws you in only to smack you in the face for your misplaced compassion.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |