i could have written a million and one different reviews for this film; if you know anything about me, you probably know how i feel about dead poets society. but i know that no matter how many words i draw around a page, their weight will never match the raw truth and beauty of the act of speaking honest art into the world.
in transforming stories of artists and their art into something tangible, bold, and confronting, you are forced…
little women feels like honey melted sunshine blooming from the inside out, unravelling the parts of me that most aught to be warmed up. it’s beautiful and overwhelming and transcendant and you will try not to cry, but you probably will. prepare to feel yourself shift lenses; prepare to feel yourself inside the skins of these four girls, and then within their hearts.
anne sexton once wrote that ‘the joy that isn’t shared dies young’, and that same sentiment is…
lots of mysteries in this one like ‘who’s the killer?’ and ‘why is the camera angled like that?’
funny how shakespeare’s been real quiet since joseph gordon-levitt said ‘i burn, i pine, i perish’
