Philomena

        My mother-in-law asked me once, not without a pang of annoyance, if being so analytical about movies took away the joy of watching them. My answer was something I read once in a obscure french screenwriting book: good movies grab you by the gut and you're so emotionally involved that all that annoying analysis flies out the window. Yes, the threshold for what I consider a "good movie" might be higher than the other person, but that experience, of total suspension of disbelief, happens from time to time, and when it does, it reminds me why I want to write and make movies in the first place.
         This phenomenon happened while watching Philomena. Yes, the writer in me was thinking about story beats and narrative choices for the first ten minutes or so, but what I remember thinking the most about is how embarrassing it would be to leave the theaters in tears. Stephen Frears has shown us the amazing ability to show someone's whole life and what it means to be that person by focusing on a particular event that person lived. That is clear in the masterful "The Queen", and equally present in Philomena.
        The screenplay, signed by Steve Coogan - who also stars, and has won my heart ever since the hysterically funny and melancholic The Trip  - and Jeff Pope is flawless. Never too much, never too little, fast paced and great pay offs. He creates a fun and deep dynamic between the wonderfully complex Philomena and the somewhat grumpy yet helpful and involved-more-than-he-wanted-to Martin. The movie does something seldom seen nowadays: it engages the audience in such a way one feels like screaming at the character on screen, and when we side with Martin during the final climactic exchange, it's us who Philomena is talking to when lecturing about love and forgiveness.