A scene shows Ryder blissfully tying up the manuscript and putting a rose under the string. That's rather like what Armstrong and the screenwriters did to the film: tied it up neatly with a pretty flower.
Unrequited love, the all consuming crush, the exasperated horror of hormonal changes, the tedium of school, trouble with parents, the emergence of individual identity . . . the adolescent struggle and all of its attendant rites, rituals, and humiliations are ever present in the storytelling of My So-Called Life.
In past years, Hollywood purposely counter programmed these renowned Cineplex dog days, trying to offset the perception that cinematic scraps were all the studios had to offer. From the look of this lame list, it's apparently back to the filmic fridge for some patently warmed over offerings.
'What I learned seeing the movie is that yes, you do lose that ability to go into people's minds, but you gain Meryl Streep's ability to separate an egg, in a way that tells you everything you need to know about who that person is at that point.'"