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Beautifully designed by Darsi Monaco, the movie seems caught up in something mysteriously grander than personal problems. Some tonal washes of yellow or ashen-blue texture the ripening overlap of Rhoda and the recovering man (William Mapother). The actors bask in a mutual twilight zone and carry the story past its small conceptual holes, into a delicate and surreal intimacy.


Newsreel: He was one of the past century’s best showmen, yet few knew it. Bruce Trinz came back from the Second World War, entered his family’s theater-chain business, and turned Chicago’s Clark Theater into a movie Mecca. Showing two pictures of all sorts on a bill that changed daily, the Clark was open 22 hours a day and became a cross-sectional profile of the city. I ushered there, and when the Clark’s glory ended in 1969, Trinz became a film booker in New York and Philadelphia.

I never had a better boss than Bruce Trinz, who died at 93 on July 7. His memoir remained unfinished, maybe because his movie love was so unpretentious. The Trinz grin was terrific, and his sly humor pervaded a monthly program for which he wrote, on each movie, a rhymed couplet. Maybe you can guess which movie inspired this one: A grim human bomb/ Who worshipped his Mom! (Yep, Cagney’s White Heat.) Here is mine for Bruce: He made art such fun/ And had a great run!

Reviewed in the listings: The Change-Up; Life, Above All; Life in a Day; and The Smurfs.

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