kind of hooey. a kernel of feeling that comes of a dramatizing a
genuinely intriguing thought/emotion experiment, but gimmicky
stereotyped and lacquered over and neither the screenwriter nor Brad
Pitt up to the task. and criminal the way they made up Cate Blanchett
to within an inch of her life, like a china doll for the young ballet
dancer period in her life, and like a suppurating turd on her
deathbed. and who the hell was it who played her daughter, the
quintessence of mod-gal, "i'm all about the information" television-
style acting. this film had a soul, but beleaguered by phony easy
solutions. and yet it may well net the oscars.
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