Let me be clear: I hate chick flicks. I also hate all Jane Austen movies. Both genre overflow with endless dialogue and angst, and, in the end, nothing actually happens. I would rather have my hand slammed in a car door as be forced to watch one. Let’s be even more clear about my taste in films: I’m a guy who believes that Spectre is a great film, and that We Were Soldiers is one fine piece of movie making. I like shoot ’em up, high tech action films that keep you engaged from opening to closing credits, and admit I’m simple minded and prefer films where something actually happens.
From that perspective, one can understand that when I saw that the new film I Dream Too Much was on the schedule in the primo Sunday evening time slot at this year’s Houston Cinema Arts Festival, I winced and gave fleeting consideration to packing along a pillow since it looked like a serious chick flick. After seeing it, however, I now know how wrong I was. This is no chick flick, at least as this guy perceives them.
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