By Other Voices voices@moviecitynews.com

LETTERS FROM LARRY

..Sundance 2010
..Letters: On the Way
..Letters: Day One
..Letters: Day Two
..Letters: Day Three

DEAR DAVID:

Brian Poyser’s Lovers of Hate is the kind of tiny brilliant gem that low-budget indie films ought to be and so seldom are. Three no-name actors, (four speaking parts over all) star, half the movie shot on one practical set (located incidentally, in Park City, the action taking place in a three day period. The budget undoubtedly less than catering costs on a studio effects picture–the narrative combining elements of romantic-comedy psychological thriller, and slice of life character study, combining to produce a completely unclassifiable hybrid that is an authentically personal cinematic vision. Bravo!

Cooper and his programming team for finding this and if they could find five movies this good at this budget, in any one year’s program you’d know that American indie cinema was enjoying an artistic renaissance. I simply can’t start describing this film in detail without getting into damaging spoiler territory, but suffice it to say that you will think you’ve seen the set up and the situation before but I promise you that you haven’t. Every stock situation plays out in a quietly fresh and different way than you expect or assume If the multitudes in Park City know what is good for them, cinematically speaking, they will run not walk to the next screenings of The Lovers of Hate..

Quite a good deal more later.

Larry
Sent from my iPhone

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Larry Gross is a 25 year screenwriting veteran and Winner of Sundance’s Waldo Salt Screenwriting Award for his most recent release, We Don’t Live Here Anymore.

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“When books become a thing, they can no longer be fine.

“Literary people get mad at Knausgård the same way they get mad at Jonathan Franzen, a writer who, if I’m being honest, might be fine. I’m rarely honest about Jonathan Franzen. He’s an extremely annoying manI have only read bits and pieces of his novels, and while I’ve stopped reading many novels even though they were pretty good or great, I have always stopped reading Jonathan Franzen’s novels because I thought they were aggressively boring and dumb and smug. But why do I think this? I didn’t read him when he was a new interesting writer who wrote a couple of weird books and then hit it big with ‘The Corrections,’ a moment in which I might have picked him up with curiosity and read with an open mind; I only noticed him once, after David Foster Wallace had died, he became the heir apparent for the Great American Novelist position, once he had had that thing with Oprah and started giving interviews in which he said all manner of dumb shit; I only noticed him well after I had been told he was An Important Writer.

“So I can’t and shouldn’t pretend that I am unmoved by the lazily-satisfied gentle arrogance he projects or when he is given license to project it by the has-the-whole-world-gone-crazy development of him being constantly crowned and re-crowned as Is He The Great American Writer. What I really object to is this, and if there’s anything to his writing beyond it, I can’t see it and can’t be bothered. Others read him and tell me he’s actually a good writer—people whose critical instincts I have learned to respect—so I feel sure that he’s probably a perfectly fine, that his books are fine, and that probably even his stupid goddamned bird essays are probably also fine.

“But it’s too late. He has become a thing; he can’t be fine.”
~ Aaron Bady

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~ Fabrice Aragno