I find it difficult to believe that Debra and I just sat through In the Bedroom on DVD.  My first (printable) response after the movie was over is “You’ve got to be kidding me.”  That pile of brooding incoherent disconnected images was nominated for 8 Academy Awards and countless “lesser” distinctions?  How could anybody in that film be nominated for anything other than Best Comatose Performance?

I’ve long known that film critics and I rarely agree when it comes to drama, what with our widely differing opinions of such drivel as The Last Emperor, My Dog Skip, The Thin Red Line, and Titanic.  But until recently I thought perhaps I just didn’t get it.  I’ve finally realized, though, that  if you think of films like In the Bedroom as THE ROYAL NONESUCH, and film critics as the citizens of that little Arkansas town in The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, then things make a lot more sense.

In the Bedroom is yet another film that suffers from (among many other things) the deadly sin of taking itself seriously.  Don’t waste your time or your money.