Portman captures both the individual and national struggles to find sanctuary in the contested lands that became the state of Israel.
Peter (Brody) is beset by Gothic clichés: he walks empty city streets, rarely sees daylight, cues lashing rain, and attracts an entire practice of ghosts who really don’t like him very much at all.
In the dance halls, we can see the transformation of lost individuals into a glorious tribe of dressed up, sweaty acolytes, flashing their baggy trousers and swirling their flared skirts.
If just some of the subtlety found in Rizzoli and Isles themselves could enter the crime-fighting in the show, TNT might find on its hands not only an audience favorite, but also a critical ground-breaker.
While John Boorman doesn't transform the genre here as he did in Hope and Glory, he does give Queen and Country more bite than the usual soft-focus waltz down memory lane.
The sheer frustration of watching the nearly immobile Major Crimes is compounded by the glimmers it offers of alternative roles for women in primetime television.
Aided by Marcel Syskind's gorgeous cinemaphotography, the audience sees that these characters are often hidden beneath only the lightest of masks.
The crux of the plot lies in Solness’ state of mind, bothered by a material abundance he fears is unearned, and thus infinitely fragile, liable to be withdrawn as arbitrarily as it was given.
The ever-expanding TV population of zombies, the disappeared, and assorted cyborgs is joined by the citizens of Arcadia, Missouri, who just can’t seem to stay in the graves where their loving relatives have interred them.