That's my Halloween costume. And The Frankenstein is for Henry. He's coming here this weekend. We're going to trick or treat in the Slope. I made it more James Whale than Kenneth Branagh.
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That's my Halloween costume. And The Frankenstein is for Henry. He's coming here this weekend. We're going to trick or treat in the Slope. I made it more James Whale than Kenneth Branagh.
.
![]()
What makes Megalopolis so strange and, for a big-budget Hollywood film, so singular, is that, just like Vergil’s Aeneid, it is at once accretive, allusive, and idiosyncratic because Coppola is attempting something very few artists have ever done: to speak from inside the imperial organism, even as it begins to crack, and to craft a vision that is both a monument to its grandeur and a requiem for its decline.
revisé hace poco, 25 años después, Morir todavía y es de las diez peores películas que me visto en mi vida.
¿Branagh who?
What makes Megalopolis so strange and, for a big-budget Hollywood film, so singular, is that, just like Vergil’s Aeneid, it is at once accretive, allusive, and idiosyncratic because Coppola is attempting something very few artists have ever done: to speak from inside the imperial organism, even as it begins to crack, and to craft a vision that is both a monument to its grandeur and a requiem for its decline.
¿Te gusta Branagh? ¿Te pareció buena Morir todavía?
What makes Megalopolis so strange and, for a big-budget Hollywood film, so singular, is that, just like Vergil’s Aeneid, it is at once accretive, allusive, and idiosyncratic because Coppola is attempting something very few artists have ever done: to speak from inside the imperial organism, even as it begins to crack, and to craft a vision that is both a monument to its grandeur and a requiem for its decline.
Tu nick claro. Las vi en sus fechas originales pero no he revisado ninguna excepto Morir, y confieso que no me apetece ver siquiera Peter's friends.
What makes Megalopolis so strange and, for a big-budget Hollywood film, so singular, is that, just like Vergil’s Aeneid, it is at once accretive, allusive, and idiosyncratic because Coppola is attempting something very few artists have ever done: to speak from inside the imperial organism, even as it begins to crack, and to craft a vision that is both a monument to its grandeur and a requiem for its decline.