-By John DeFore
For movie details, please click here.
A mismatched-friends drama whose overall sensitivity is belied by a
couple of clumsily contrived plot points, Sean Baker's
Starlet pairs story and setting perfectly and could shine in
a short art-house run.
Set in a San Fernando Valley where, according to production
designer Mari Yui and high-def DP Radium Cheung, primary colors
simply do not exist, the film is as pale as its protagonist's
blonde hair—distractingly so, though the look does suit a film
about seeking connection in a soulless world.
Dree Hemingway plays Jane, a frighteningly skinny 21-year-old who
finds $10,000 rolled up in a thermos bought at a yard sale.
Conscience-struck, she tries to return the loot to the ornery
85-year-old who sold it to her, but Sadie (Besedka Johnson) won't
even let her get a sentence out. "I told you, no refunds!" she
shouts, slamming the door in Jane's face. Johnson is admirably
committed to this sketchy premise, rebuffing Jane's inquiries with
such baffling ferocity that the girl has to stalk her way into
Sadie's life.
Hemingway finds soul in a vacant-looking character, a girl whose
passive acceptance of the sleaze around her (like her drug-abusing
roommates' lifestyle) makes her seem unlikely to pursue a
friendship both challenging and far outside her world. "Starlet" is
the name of Jane's Chihuahua, but the movie's title hints at the
way Jane and her friends make their living; the script is slow to
reveal details, but Baker's camera doesn't flinch when it's time to
show the character going to work, and this part of Jane's life is a
provocative counterpoint to scenes in which she ferries Sadie to
the grocery store and sits playing Bingo with her.
The elder woman has her own secrets, and viewers may come to accept
her initially outrageous behavior as a natural response to deep
pain. But
Starlet, thankfully, keeps armchair psychology to
a minimum, and is best when these two women (and the dog) are alone
in the frame, trying to be human beings in a place where humanity
can be a liability.
—The Hollywood Reporter
Film Review: Starlet
A powerful sense of place roots this film about the uneasy friendship between a 21-year-old and an octogenarian.
Nov 8, 2012
-By John DeFore
For movie details, please click here.
A mismatched-friends drama whose overall sensitivity is belied by a couple of clumsily contrived plot points, Sean Baker's
Starlet pairs story and setting perfectly and could shine in a short art-house run.
Set in a San Fernando Valley where, according to production designer Mari Yui and high-def DP Radium Cheung, primary colors simply do not exist, the film is as pale as its protagonist's blonde hair—distractingly so, though the look does suit a film about seeking connection in a soulless world.
Dree Hemingway plays Jane, a frighteningly skinny 21-year-old who finds $10,000 rolled up in a thermos bought at a yard sale. Conscience-struck, she tries to return the loot to the ornery 85-year-old who sold it to her, but Sadie (Besedka Johnson) won't even let her get a sentence out. "I told you, no refunds!" she shouts, slamming the door in Jane's face. Johnson is admirably committed to this sketchy premise, rebuffing Jane's inquiries with such baffling ferocity that the girl has to stalk her way into Sadie's life.
Hemingway finds soul in a vacant-looking character, a girl whose passive acceptance of the sleaze around her (like her drug-abusing roommates' lifestyle) makes her seem unlikely to pursue a friendship both challenging and far outside her world. "Starlet" is the name of Jane's Chihuahua, but the movie's title hints at the way Jane and her friends make their living; the script is slow to reveal details, but Baker's camera doesn't flinch when it's time to show the character going to work, and this part of Jane's life is a provocative counterpoint to scenes in which she ferries Sadie to the grocery store and sits playing Bingo with her.
The elder woman has her own secrets, and viewers may come to accept her initially outrageous behavior as a natural response to deep pain. But
Starlet, thankfully, keeps armchair psychology to a minimum, and is best when these two women (and the dog) are alone in the frame, trying to be human beings in a place where humanity can be a liability.
—The Hollywood Reporter
