Rob Dailey

YouTube. Full Movie La hora del mido. Naomi Watts in The Wolf Hour. Brainstorm Media Set in the grim and steamy South Bronx in the blistering summer of 1977, a lurid psychological thriller without thrills called The Wolf Hour is as pointless and unspecific as its title. All it has going for it is a dolorous but passionately committed performance by a drab, unrecognizable Naomi Watts. She produced it to show off the range of her obvious talent, and deserves an A for effort in a vehicle that rates a D for dreary, desolate and depressing. The rest of The Wolf Hour deserves an F for forget it. SEE ALSO: Daniel Craig’s Murder Mystery ‘Knives Out’ Is More of a Comedy Than a Thriller The star plays a once-respected author, June Leigh, whose career has tanked. She has deserted her former life and become a neurotic recluse locked inside a filthy slum, dwelling far away from her old safe and privileged existence. In the derelict neighborhood outside, violence is rampant in the streets and the city is in the middle of a blackout, triggering looting, fires, and the worst crime wave in New York history. THE WOLF HOUR ★ (1/4 stars) Directed by: Alistair Banks Griffin Written by: Alistair Banks Griffin Starring: Naomi Watts, Jeremy Bobb, Jennifer Ehle, Emory Cohen, Kelvin Harrison Jr. Running time: 99 mins. Inside her cluttered, claustrophobic, one-room apartment she nervously chain smokes cartons of cigarettes while the intercom buzzes constantly, but there’s no one there. The conditions outside are so dangerous that it’s not even safe to go to the corner bodega for a bottle of water. To make things worse, the serial killer called the Son of Sam is on the loose. It’s Roman Polanski’s Repulsion, only creepier. Any and every vestige of former beauty is gone in a reconstructed Watts with stringy black hair, covered with sweat in a dirty tank top, surrounded by copies of her well-reviewed novel about her father that was responsible for his death and the reason her family has disowned her. Now, she’s four years behind in finishing a new book for which she has gone through her advance, and she’s become a shut-in with writer’s block, consumed by paralyzing fear and riddled with anxiety and paranoia. A few intruders arrive?a sympathetic delivery boy (Kelvin Harrison Jr. ) who uses her sink to wash off, a cynical cop (Jeremy Bobb), an old friend who tries to help (Jennifer Ehle), and a paid escort (Emory Cohen) she phones for desperate sex. They are excellent, but it is really Watts who dominates the film in what practically amounts to little more than an experimental one-woman acting exercise. Writer-director Alistair Banks Griffin provides plenty of menace but not much convincing psychological insight, and the title The Wolf Hour makes no logical sense at all.

Ha ha, yes, I'll watch it. Super sarki. Turkiye'den can Azerbaycana selamlar.

Full Movie La hora del médocs. Es bellísimo / w. Full Movie La hora del meido rando. June 23, 2019 4:16PM PT Naomi Watts delivers a nuanced, nervy turn as a reclusive shut-in stewing in paranoia, writer's block and the heat of the 1977 Bronx summer. Run a finger along any of the surfaces in Alistair Banks Griffin ’s sophomore feature “ The Wolf Hour, ” and it will come up slicked with sweat, grime and the residual soot of the city. It is the summer of 1977, and it’s hotter than hell. June Leigh ( Naomi Watts) perches on the window sill of the squalid Bronx apartment she dares not leave, facing right into a lethargic fan that scarcely even stirs the wavy brown hair off her sticky shoulders. Outside, little blisters of violence and intimidation erupt on the tinder-box streets, and somewhere nearby, Son of Sam is murdering women with wavy brown hair. “Hello from the gutters of New York City, ” the serial killer writes in letters to the papers, and though Griffin’s heavy-on-atmosphere, light-on-plot film takes place almost exclusively five floors up from ground level, those gutters feel palpably, oppressively close. “ The Wolf Hour ” is a peculiar film, compelling in its way due to Watts’ tensile, committed performance as a once-celebrated feminist writer now hemmed in to her dead grandmother’s apartment by paranoia and the demons unleashed by her earlier success. And though there are other players, if there is a second lead in this near-single-location, near-one-woman-show, it is probably Kaet McAnneny’s production design, which oozes menace and neglect so viscerally it might as well be ectoplasm. Khalid Mohtaseb’s supple photography, too, is a small wonder, never cheating the small space, but finding enough maneuverability within it so that a sense of claustrophobia is evoked without the imagery ever feeling constrained. But for all these strengths, and the judicious application of Saunder Jurriaans and Danny Bensi’s nervy score, the film lacks texture where it needs it most ? in June’s unraveling psychology. She has been holed up here for a while ? long enough to have bags of trash collecting flies beside the dusty draft of her second book in the living room, a system in place for paying the rent without opening her door and a regular grocery delivery set up with the bodega nearby. Her isolation is almost complete, except for a sinister buzzing intercom that crackles emptily when she answers it, and for a sudden, unwanted visit from her old friend Margot (Jennifer Ehle), who brings literal and figurative fresh air into her life for a moment, before June alienates her again. Aside from that, she forms a testy bond with delivery boy Freddie (Kelvin Harrison Jr. ) and fights off the rapey advances of a cop (Jeremy Bobb). But mostly, she chain-smokes, sweats into her drab tank top and fails to write. For all the hothouse menace Griffin summons, there is something coldly considered about “The Wolf Hour. ” As much as we feel June’s anxiety, and the acrid, stultifying weight of the humid air that encases her like wet cement, we never feel for her. Case in point: she replays a videotape of a much more put-together June being condescended to by a male interviewer and matching him jab for jab, until he unleashes the revelation that undoes her entirely and leads to her current, straggly-haired, sweat-stained incarnation. On the one hand, it’s a fairly effective way of cluing us in on backstory while maintaining the rigor of the single-location premise. But her past vicissitudes seem so like they happened to another person (one we never properly meet) that it’s difficult to invest in them. (It doesn’t help that the bombshell TV interview irresistibly recalls the “Simpsons” episode where Bart taunts Lisa with the video where “you can actually pinpoint the second when [Ralph’s] heart rips in half”). This cautiousness also extends to the film’s themes. Whereas there is a racial and a class element to June’s paranoia, as an unstable, vulnerable white woman from a wealthy background living alone and friendless in a predominantly black, poor, socially volatile neighborhood, the film shies away from a real exploration of that provocative situation. And even her creative struggle is undermined: “The Wolf Hour” takes the notion of literary blockage excessively seriously ? as it does everything: The portrayal of the classic ’70s feminist as a being almost defined by her stringent humorlessness is something of a cliché by now. But it also implies that maybe all June really needed to get those juices flowing again was some halfway decent sex, which comes courtesy of an unusually sensitive gigolo, beautifully played by a soft-bodied, gentle-eyed Emory Cohen. “The Wolf Hour” touches on explosive ideas of racism, sexism, guilt, delusion and urban isolation, so it’s frustrating that, like the gun June obtains at one point, they are handled only warily and then shoved under the floorboards. The general consensus is that the other major 1977 heatwave-set New York City film, Spike Lee’s sprawling “Summer of Sam, ” bit off more than it could chew. But “The Wolf Hour” tries to make a five-course meal of the merest morsel, leaving Watts, on eminently watchable form, to grind her teeth on a role far less meaty than it ought to have been. In today’s film news roundup, “The Invisible Man” hits a milestone; “Kajillionaire, ” “Come Play” and “Green Rush” get release dates; and Jack Eve’s romantic drama “Open” wraps shooting. BOX OFFICE Universal Pictures-Blumhouse Productions’ “The Invisible Man” has crossed $100 million at the worldwide box office in less than two weeks. The film, directed by Leigh [... ] Filmhouse, the home of the Edinburgh International Film Festival (EIFF) in Scotland, has unveiled plans for a major new six-screen cinema and venue in the heart of the city. The planned building is expected to cost £50 million ($65 million) and has been designed by Edinburgh-based Richard Murphy Architects. If planning permission is granted by [... ] Ben Affleck was on Harvey Weinstein’s “red flag list, ” according to recently unsealed court documents. Prior to the publication of bombshell reports, which ignited the #MeToo movement and led to the former movie mogul’s downfall, Weinstein kept a list of names of people he was concerned could be talking to journalists in 2017 about his [... ] Jason Blum’s Blumhouse Productions, which generated a horror hit with “The Invisible Man, ” has launched development of an untitled Dracula movie. Karyn Kusama, whose credits include “Destroyer, ” “The Invitation” and “Jennifer’s Body, ” is attached to direct the Dracula project. Matt Manfredi and Phil Hay, who teamed with Kusama on “Destroyer” and “The Invitation, ” are writing [... ] Newcomer Ever Anderson will play Wendy while Alexander Molony will play Peter Pan in Disney’s live-action Peter Pan pic “Peter Pan & Wendy, ” sources tell Variety. “Pete’s Dragon” director David Lowery is on board to direct. Lowery co-wrote the script with Toby Halbrooks. Jim Whitaker is producing. Disney’s 1953 animated classic is still the most [... ] Roy Dana (R. D. ) Call, an actor who appeared in such films as “Last Man Standing, ” “Born on the Fourth of July” and several other films alongside Sean Penn, died on Feb. 27 of back surgery complications, his family announced. He was 70. The Utah native was born Feb. 16, 1950 and came to Los Angeles [... ] Filmmakers Jason Sussberg and David Alvarado were holed up in a studio Friday at Skywalker Ranch, putting the finishing touches on the sound mix for their film “We Are As Gods, ” a documentary about the environmentalist Stewart Brand. The two men were scrambling to get everything ready for the film’s March 15 premiere at South [... ].
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