She-Hulk: Attorney at Law (2022) s01e09 – Whose Show Is This?

“She-Hulk” does not end with a second season announcement, which is—possibly reasonably, possibly not—heartbreaking. Especially since the mid-credit sequence erases one of the episode’s “wins.”

Because even though “She-Hulk” is a Marvel show in an MCU, the show and its star—Tatiana Maslany (She-Hulk gets significantly less to do this episode)—would rather be a superhero legal comedy than set up Planet Hulk for 2033 or whenever. And Maslany tells the head honcho at Marvel Studios as much after she does a major wall break to plead the show’s case.

There are a handful of surprise guest stars, several twists, and another good subplot for Ginger Gonzaga and Josh Segarra. The show does a rapid-fire cliffhanger resolution, with Maslany ending up back at home with parents Mark Linn-Baker and Tess Malis Kincaid. Kincaid’s finally distinct, opposite Gonzaga; there’s potential there. There’s potential all over the place for “She-Hulk,” including a move to New York City or at least a guest appearance in a sequel to a particular Netflix Marvel show. Not to mention the big MCU reveal, stealing Maslany’s last scene from her like it’s a Robert Downey Jr. cameo.

The episode starts with some inspired franchise homage, then destroys the fourth wall to save Maslany from having to do just another Marvel movie resolution, only to leave her in limbo. The episode wraps things up, including some solidly acerbic observations about the Marvel Studios creative process, but it doesn’t take the show anywhere new. It just doesn’t take it anywhere old.

And if “She-Hulk” doesn’t continue, if Maslany just gets wrapped into the occasional guest spot, it won’t get to go anywhere. The second season tag would at least acknowledge they know what they’ve got here. The show’s incredibly aware of what it’s done, what it’s accomplished, and what it’s whiffed on, but it also says those things might not matter.

The finale’s not disappointing or even underwhelming. It’s also not the home run I’d been hoping for.

If they don’t do a season two, I hope they’ve better plans for Maslany than costarring in Fantastic Four and guesting on “Daredevil” as the love interest. I feel like “She-Hulk” knows better, but does Marvel?

The season’s an incredible success for Maslany, who took the show over from big-name guest stars and CGI twerking, and there have been some excellent scripts throughout the season.

I want more “She-Hulk.” I’m glad we got any at all. I hope we get some more.

She-Hulk: Attorney at Law (2022) s01e07 – The Retreat

I’ll disclose I did not go into this episode without expectations. A friend said it was when “She-Hulk” hits its full potential, and he’s entirely correct. I just didn’t realize how much the show was going to include in that potential. This episode gets silly and soulful in a way reminiscent of the Dan Slott comic (he gets a towing company named after him in the MCU), but with Tatiana Malsany’s Year One character experiencing it. With the best use of MCU legacy goods to date.

I am speaking, of course, of Mister Timothy Simon Roth, who’s been having a rough time of it—actual good performance-wise—for some time now. When he was in Incredible Hulk, it was a hail-marry villain casting, back when good villains supposedly mattered in superhero movies.

This episode mostly takes place at Roth’s retreat, where he has group therapy for powered individuals, including Asgardian refugees, so alien species as well. And, presumably, daywalkers.

The episode starts with Maslany having a pop music romance montage with Trevor Salter, culminating in their first adult sleepover. Only then Maslany doesn’t hear from him for the whole weekend; Sunday morning rolls around, and instead of Salter lighting up her phone, it’s Roth’s probation officer, played by John Pirruccello.

Maslany and Pirrucello head to the retreat to investigate some discrepancies in Roth’s power inhibitor, where they discover more than meets the eye.

Sorry, wrong franchise. For now, right, Disney?

Anyway.

There are some surprise returning guest stars—who Maslany breaks the wall to contextualize—along with some breakout “problem” supers, like Joseph Castillo-Midyett. He wants to be a swashbuckler, but everyone assumes he’s a matador; he’s got some kind of laser sword. His best friend’s an Asgardian man-bull named Man-Bull (played by Nathan Hurd). But is it a front for something nefarious, or is it on the level?

The episode addresses pretty much all the outstanding concerns, like Maslany’s experience of living She-Hulk: Year One, but also what tone the show’s going for. There are big, terrible developments on the misogynist Star Wars fan bros front, with Ginger Gonzaga, really only showing up to remind Maslany (and the audience) about it, but “She-Hulk”’s got a lot more going on.

Series best direction from Anu Valia and a genuinely superb script, credited to Zeb Wells. Maslany’s got her best scenes, including as She-Hulk (they up the CGI for her close-up monologuing). It’s so good.

“She-Hulk”’s arrived even better than expected, promised, or hoped; where’s the season two announcement? Hell, where’s the season three announcement

She-Hulk: Attorney at Law (2022) s01e03 – The People vs. Emil Blonsky

I’m pretty sure this episode of “She-Hulk” is the first time the MCU has acknowledged white males aged eighteen to thirty-four are entirely pieces of shit. There’s a bit with the news showing Twitter posts complaining about She-Hulk, then the MCU version of the Wrecking Crew is a bunch of Trump voters who’ve decided to finally commit to just assaulting women. It’s a fantastic flex from the show, and watching CGI She-Hulk beat the shit out of the Wrecking Crew, who seem like they’ll be back, is going to be great.

This episode’s where the show finally delivers on all fronts—there’s legal comedy-drama, there’s MCU business, there’s fourth wall breaking, there’s a celebrity cameo. The show takes several shortcuts to get there, including B plot protagonist Josh Segarra. Segarra plays Pug, who’s from the comics, and I’m pretty sure he wasn’t in the last episode. He certainly didn’t talk or get introduced. In fact, when he shows up in this episode, the focus is on returning guest star Drew Matthews.

Matthews is an assistant district attorney shit-bag Maslany and Ginger Gonzaga used to work with; he needs their new firm’s help with a matter involving a New Asgardian shapeshifter. It’s a lot of… not MCU workplace jabs and jokes. The MCU got over the Blip faster than real life got over lockdown. It’s a bit disconcerting seeing “She-Hulk” comment on workplace harassment fifteen minutes after Tatiana Maslany broke the fourth wall to assure viewers the show’s not just about returning MCU guest stars (no Mark Ruffalo this episode, but Tim Roth and Benedict Wong).

Roth and Wong are in the A plot—we can call them A and B plots with “She-Hulk,” Maslany broke the wall to talk to us about how they work—spinning out of their adventures in Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings. It’d be fascinating to see the Disney+ numbers to see if “She-Hulk”’s an entry to Shang-Chi or vice versa.

Anyway. Maslany’s still trying to get Roth out on parole, and Wong seems to be the key, only Wong’s the Sorcerer Supreme, and he’s got things to do. It’s an excellent sequence and a wonderful comic adaptation; they’ve cracked “She-Hulk.” Unfortunately, it does seem like there’s been a lot left on the cutting room floor—Segarra’s introduction, Gonzaga and Maslany being besties, Gonzaga having a part—but the show delivers. Roth, a stunt cast back in Incredible Hulk, finally gets to loose himself in the part.

And Wong’s a delight.

And Maslany’s a delight. “She-Hulk”’s loads of—surprisingly grounded—fun.

She-Hulk: Attorney at Law (2022) s01e02 – Superhuman Law

This episode runs an incredibly (no pun) brief twenty-two minutes. There are end credits and a mid-credits sequence (which belongs in the episode proper) but also a long re-cap, so twenty-two minutes. Sitcom-length. Only “She-Hulk: Attorney at Law” doesn’t feel like a sitcom. It does at times, and it’s definitely a comedy, but it needs space to stretch.

There’s also the on-release versus binging viewing experience. Waiting week after week for truncated episodes—this episode finishes up the pilot responsibilities of last episode and then sets up next episode; if “She-Hulk” was always supposed to be sitcom-length, it’s concerning. But, binging, it’ll probably run great. Depending on how the second half of the season goes.

The pilot wrap-up involves Tatiana Maslany losing her job for saving the jury’s lives as She-Hulk and not being able to find another lawyer gig. She has to put up with shit from her loser cousin Nicholas Cirillo at a family dinner where Mark Linn-Baker plays Maslany’s dad.

Linn-Baker’s a muted stunt cast, with mom Tess Malis Kincaid then not a stunt cast, which is… peculiar. They should’ve done Paul Reiser and Helen Hunt.

Anyway, pretty soon, the rest of the pilot’s over, and Steve Coulter offers Maslany a job so the show can fulfill its title.

Coulter doesn’t want human Maslany working for him; he wants She-Hulk Maslany working for him. While Maslany does get to bring sidekick Ginger Gonzaga along (who has zero character so far, another side effect of the sitcom-length), the other deal-breaker is her first case: she needs to defend Tim Roth. Roth’s been in prison since the first Incredible Hulk movie (the only Incredible Hulk movie) fourteen years ago. It’s nice to see Roth get to have fun in the role since he didn’t in the movie so much.

Maslany doesn’t want to represent Roth because he tried to kill her cousin in that movie, back when he was Edward Norton. Mark Ruffalo has a brief scene explaining he doesn’t care about the Incredible Hulk movie, it’s Universal, anyway, and he was a different person back then—the first time the MCU has acknowledged the recasting. Though wouldn’t Ed Norton just be a variant? #BringBackEdwardNortonYouCowards

Anyway.

It’s a good episode, Maslany continues to be great and just what the MCU needed in 2012, but damn, it’s too short.

Pulp Fiction (1994, Quentin Tarantino)

There’s a lot of great moments in Pulp Fiction. There’s not a lot of great filmmaking–the taxi ride conversation between Bruce Willis and Angela Jones is about as close as director Tarantino gets to it–but there are definitely a lot of great moments. There’s the chemistry between John Travolta and Samuel L. Jackson. There’s the Christopher Walken monologue, which is hilarious.

It’s also beyond problematic in terms of Tarantino’s force-feeding of racism to the audience; at a certain point, very, very early on, the viewer either has to accept Tarantino’s conceit racist language doesn’t make one a racist or just stop watching the film. Because the real racists are actually literal monsters, something the criminals of Pulp Fiction usually aren’t (at least on screen). Oh, and Tarantino’s wife in the film is black. So his slur-laden monologue–terribly delivered, of course, as Tarantino’s a horrific actor–means he really isn’t racist. It’s just supposed to be funny. You know, agree with him about it.

There’s probably lots written about Tarantino and racism. Lots excusing him, I’m sure. But Pulp Fiction doesn’t want to talk about racism or much else. It’s another stool Tarantino steps on to deliver the film. It’s not about the real world or real people, it’s about Tarantino’s version of “pulp fiction,” which involves magic and so on. Anyway, I’m off topic. A look at the film’s place in mainstreaming “post-racial” racist humor deserves a serious discussion, which I’m going to do here.

Wow, after that lede, how do I get back on track with saying a lot of nice things about the film and Tarantino’s writing….

He gets phenomenal performances from Travolta and Willis. Travolta somewhat more than Willis, even though Willis gets better material to himself. Travolta’s good solo, but nothing compared to when he’s with Jackson and Jackson gets the only real character role in the film. Everyone else plays a caricature or worse, but Jackson gets to stop and look around at the world and figure out how to live in it. He’s amazing, whether he’s delivering Tarantino’s comical expository dialogue, the tough guy threatening, the soul searching; Jackson does it all.

There’s some solid support from Maria de Medeiros as Willis’s girlfriend. The film’s in three sections–Travolta goes on a date with crime boss Ving Rhames’s wife, Uma Thurman in the first, Willis rips off Rhames and is on the run in the second, then the third part is just an amusement chapter for Jackson and Travolta. de Medeiros is barely in the film, doesn’t get to leave a crappy motel room set, yet she still makes more of the character than Thurman makes of hers.

You can say Thurman’s got a well-written role, but you’re wrong. Sorry. Tarantino doesn’t want to ruminate on masculinity, but he gets in the ballpark (Willis as the classic Hollywood hero). The female characters, Thurman in particular, get thin material. You need to think about it. Pulp Fiction is, like I said, rather problematic. It doesn’t help Thurman her wig has to do most of the acting with the way Tarantino directs her. His direction of her talking heads scenes with Travolta is his worst work as a director in the entire film. Like I said, problematic. It’s a good, very problematic motion picture.

Would it be better if cinematographer Andrzej Sekula weren’t really boring? Maybe. Sekula lights the picture to emphasize the performances, which is fine, only it’s not all close-ups or medium shots where it’d be appropriate. The solid, but not startling, editing from Sally Menke helps things a little though. There’s an energy to the film and when it goes slack, Fiction gets a little too long in the tooth. Since it’s three separate chapters, it’s particularly annoying when it goes slack right off with Thurman and Travolta’s date. Willis and Rhames’s story immediately saves the picture. Jackson and Travolta basically coast through on the last one.

Oh, and Tim Roth and Amanda Plummer aren’t good enough. Some of it’s the writing, some of it’s the directing, but quite a bit of it is their performances. It’s a strange misstep too, since Tarantino’s attention to narrative tone is one of the best things about the film.

Pulp Fiction is a solid, often troubling film. Tarantino doesn’t bite off more than he can chew, however–it’s assured, but not ambitious in anything but its length and bravado–because he doesn’t chew off much of anything with it.

Reservoir Dogs (1992, Quentin Tarantino)

The least violent part of Reservoir Dogs is the bloodiest. One of the characters is in a pool of blood, slipping on it as he delivers his dialogue. Director Tarantino finds a moment of Shakespearian tragedy and builds a film to it. He uses stylish ultra-violence, Dogs is visceral with the blood, but the action itself implies a far more frugal production. He uses seventies music, but not the trendy stuff. His somewhat fractured narrative, which owes something to classic film noir, wants to be an updated version of seventies crime. And he succeeds with it. Tarantino would never be able to get away with Dogs having actual tragedy if he weren’t able to sell everything else he packages with that tragedy.

Dogs acknowledges the idea of being outlandish exploitation but the film’s so tightly constructed, Tarantino never lets anything get wild. The film’s most “uncontrolled” sequence, as Michael Madsen does a freestyle torture dance to “Stuck in the Middle with You,” turns out to be Tarantino’s most controlled sequence in the film’s primary location, where everything is controlled. But with Madsen’s dance, Tarantino takes the time to acknowledge the various realities of the situation. He breaks the movie magic, not because he wants to offer commentary or deconstruct genre, but because the film needs reality. The tragedy doesn’t work with reality. Without the reality, Dogs wouldn’t be difficult. It’d be amusing, sure, but it wouldn’t require the viewer to mentally engage with the film.

And Tarantino starts with those demands on the viewer right off. The first scene of the film demands the viewer make some value judgements on the cast. Harvey Keitel has to be likable, same goes for Tim Roth, even Lawrence Tierney a little. Certain actors just get to be actors, certain actors have to do a bit of a feint, but the scene has a whole bunch to do. It’s the hook. And it’s not in Tarantino’s monologues, it’s how the characters talk to one another, how they react to one another. The rhythm isn’t in one actor’s voice, but in how the banter works.

Many of the actors do get great scenes, some even get great monologues–Harvey Keitel, for instance, just gets tons of great stuff to do in the film. Right from the start, he gets the hardest work opposite Tim Roth and then Steve Buscemi. When Keitel and Madsen finally get around to facing off, there’s so much built up energy, anything seems possible. Of course, anything is not possible, because Tarantino is trying to get things somewhere specific.

Most of the film’s runtime takes place in a warehouse. Most of the film’s present action, once the flashback structure establishes, takes place in various locations. Tarantino takes forever to open up the film. It takes Dogs forever to get to a daytime scene without violence. Tarantino puts off letting the viewer identify with any of the characters. Because Dogs, for the viewer and for the characters, is about sympathy with the devil, taking responsibility for that sympathy and even requesting for that sympathy. It’s really, really good.

Andrzej Sekula’s photography is fine. Sally Menke’s editing is phenomenal. The sets are the real star. David Wasco’s production design. Tarantino shoots on cheap but Dogs never looks it. Wasco and Tarantino make it look like there’s no other way to see this film, no other angles. Tarantino holds his shots, making the hanging clothes or the wash basins extremely important–they burn into the viewer’s mind. Especially in the first act. The film implies a larger world outside itself, in no small part thanks to the set design and decoration; Tarantino asks a lot of the viewer.

And he does reward it. He promises it right off with the actors. Keitel, Buscemi, Chris Penn. They’re doing dynamic, sensational work. Even though the introduction of these characters and their development throughout the film might make them less sympathetic characters, the performances are magnificent. Especially Keitel and Buscemi. And Michael Madsen’s really good. Everyone’s really good. Except Tarantino. He’s really bad at acting. He gives himself a bad part, which is kind of good. Kind of. He’s still bad.

Tim Roth’s great.

Nice support from Randy Brooks and Kirk Baltz. Stephen Wright’s unseen DJ is almost an essential compenent.

Reservoir Dogs is never startling. Tarantino isn’t trying to exploit his viewer, he’s trying to tell a story. It’s not a big story. It’s not a grand story. It’s something of a tragic anecdote. Something tragic that happened to these guys when they were doing a job.

It’s an outstanding film.

4/4★★★★

CREDITS

Written and directed by Quentin Tarantino; director of photography, Andrzej Sekula; edited by Sally Menke; production designer, David Wasco; produced by Lawrence Bender; released by Miramax Films.

Starring Harvey Keitel (Mr. White), Tim Roth (Mr. Orange), Michael Madsen (Mr. Blonde), Steve Buscemi (Mr. Pink), Chris Penn (Nice Guy Eddie), Lawrence Tierney (Joe Cabot), Edward Bunker (Mr. Blue), Quentin Tarantino (Mr. Brown), Randy Brooks (Holdaway), Kirk Baltz (Marvin) and Steven Wright (K-Billy DJ).


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Mr. Right (2015, Paco Cabezas)

Mr. Right has shockingly poor direction. Daniel Aranyó makes the shots look good, though the CG-assisted bullet time thing is bad, and Tom Wilson’s editing is perfectly competent, but director Cabezas is really bad. He shoots the film with a Panavision aspect ratio and does not know what to do with that frame so it looks like, frankly, someone has cut the top and bottom off.

I suppose he does okay with the long shots. Or at least better with them than anything else. When Sam Rockwell, who plays the title character (he’s a hitman, it’s supposed to be an ironic moniker), dances around and beats guys up and then kills them? One can imagine how Mr. Right might work with a better director and a significant rewrite. Cabezas wastes the New Orleans location shooting; no one is supposed to be able to waste New Orleans location shooting.

The film also wastes Tim Roth, though maybe not. Maybe Roth has just gotten past the point of caring, which might explain his phoned in performance. At least Rockwell can be indifferent to the bad material and still enthusiastic. He does have to carry his love interest, Anna Kendrick, through a lot of the stupidity. Kendrick should be the film’s protagonist, but she’s not. Instead, she’s just the girl. It’s weird since the movie opens with her and she gets most of the first act.

Rockwell doesn’t even get a name until almost halfway into the picture, so it really ought to be Kendrick’s show. She’s affably annoying but she does try. Trying counts in a film like Mr. Right because actors trying is all there to a film when the direction is so hapless.

Good supporting turns from James Ransone and Anson Mount should help the film a lot more than they do. RZA is likable and almost good but not exactly. Max Landis’s script is all about broad humor and Cabezas can’t direct it. It’s astounding Rockwell is able to power his way through the material, even more impressive he’s able to bring his costars along with him. It’s unfortunate he has to carry Kendrick; she ought to have enough to do to get through on her own, but no. Landis and Cabezas give her less and less as the film goes on.

Also good support from Katie Nehra, who has a thankless part as Kendrick’s friend.

Michael Eklund is not good. It would help if he was good. He’s second fiddle to Ransone’s comedy villain.

Mr. Right has its charms–Rockwell and Kendrick, who don’t exactly have chemistry but they do appear to be having fun. While it should be much better, it could be a lot worse.

1/4

CREDITS

Directed by Paco Cabezas; written by Max Landis; director of photography, Daniel Aranyó; edited by Tom Wilson; music by Aaron Zigman; production designer, Mara LePere-Schloop; produced by Bradley Gallo, Michael A. Helfant, Rick Jacobs and Lawrence Mattis; released by Focus World.

Starring Sam Rockwell (Dancer), Anna Kendrick (Martha McKay), Tim Roth (Hopper), James Ransone (Von Cartigan), Anson Mount (Richard Cartigan), Michael Eklund (Johnny Moon), Katie Nehra (Sophie), Jaiden Kaine (Bruce) and RZA (Steve).


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Captives (1994, Angela Pope)

Nearly seventy percent of Captives is a fantastic romantic drama. Julia Ormond is a newly divorced dentist who starts working part-time at a minimum security prison, where she begins a liaison with inmate Tim Roth. Frank Deasy's script concentrates primarily on Ormond and her experiences–with occasions scenes for Roth amongst the inmates, but that first seventy minutes of the film is from Ormond's perspective.

Director Pope carefully, meticulously presents Ormond's story, from her experiences with her ex-husband, her friends, her family, herself. The romance with Roth is an otherworldly occurrence, much different from the noise and movement of Ormond's regular life. Most of their initial scenes–he's on a release program so he can attend college (the film establishes him as an okay guy real fast)–are in static environments. It's actually after that seventy minute mark, when Ormond disappears for a week of the present action and Roth becomes the protagonist, where Pope finally brings Roth into Ormond's motion-filled world.

It's a terrible scene too; they're arguing on a busy roadway. The acting's great, but the scene's bad, because after the seventy minute mark, when Captives all of a sudden becomes a thriller and no longer a quiet mediation on class and marriage and other such things, the movie falls apart.

Ormond's work here is indescribably fantastic. Roth's great and everything, but Ormond's performance is singular.

Pope's direction is solid; good supporting turns from Keith Allen and Colin Salmon.

Excellent photography from Remi Adefarasin.

Captives misfires, Ormond and Roth do not.

The Incredible Hulk (2008, Louis Leterrier), the extended version

After seeing The Incredible Hulk in theater, I knew a couple things. First, I knew the extended version–the one Edward Norton fought for, that fight costing him the role in future productions–would be better than the theatrical release. Second, I knew its release would be contingent on Norton’s future involvement with the franchise.

So, something of catch-22.

Luckily, there’s an Internet.

The extended version of Hulk runs about thirty minutes longer. It still has the problems the theatrical version does–for example, the big long fight scene at the end is a terrible way to end a movie about three people coming to terms with their actions (Norton, Liv Tyler and William Hurt)–especially when you take into account it boils down to Hurt not liking his daughter’s boyfriend. Simplest is often best and Hulk does get there.

What the extended version improves is everything until that finale. It fleshes out characters–continuing the distilled reading, Norton’s nemesis becomes Ty Burrell (Tyler’s jealous boyfriend), instead of Tim Roth’s creepy but ultimately goofy aging career soldier.

Norton and Tyler–whose relationship anchors the entire film, theatrical cut or extended–becomes even more compelling, the film taking its time with them.

Unfortunately, the added character development makes Hulk‘s competing intentions clash even more. Making a simplistic summer blockbuster out of a tragedy doesn’t work.

Still, the extended version’s a significant improvement. And if Norton and Leterrier ever did get to do a professional revision… I imagine it’d be incredible.

Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead (1990, Tom Stoppard)

I’d heard of Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead, of course. I’d probably even meant to see it at one point, probably around the time of Branagh’s Hamlet, which is when I first got big into Shakespeare. But it was only available on VHS and I was already addicted to widescreen. Oddly, this viewing–at the wife’s request–was widescreen. I thought all the DVD releases were pan and scan. So waiting worked out.

More, it worked out because I probably wouldn’t have been able to appreciate the film as much ten years ago as I am able today. The characters trapped in the confines of a narrative, realizing they’re free of agency–well, I’m familiar with it from Breakfast of Champions. But Rosencrantz & Guildenstern goes a little further in discussing the drama as a whole.

It took me a while, I’ll admit, to realize what Stoppard was doing (at the beginning, I just figured they were dead and reliving the experience of Hamlet in some afterlife). Once I did, I appreciated it.

But, honestly, not as much as I appreciated the updating of “Who’s on first?”

Tim Roth and Gary Oldman are both fantastic. It’s stunning to see Oldman in such a well-written role. It’s been a long time since he’s been concerned with acting (kids, swimming pools, et cetera, I imagine).

Stoppard’s direction is excellent. It’s understated and profound.

Richard Dreyfuss is great in a somewhat unexplainable role. Iain Glen and Ian Richardson are good in the Hamlet sections.

4/4★★★★

CREDITS

Directed by Tom Stoppard; screenplay by Stoppard, based on his play and a play by William Shakespeare; director of photography, Peter Biziou; edited by Nicolas Gaster; music by Stanley Myers; production designer, Vaughan Edwards; produced by Michael Brandman and Emanuel Azenberg; released by Cinecom Entertainment Group.

Starring Gary Oldman (Rosencrantz), Tim Roth (Guildenstern), Richard Dreyfuss (The Player), Joanna Roth (Ophelia), Iain Glen (Hamlet), Donald Sumpter (Claudius), Joanna Miles (Gertrude), Ljubo Zecevic (Osric), Ian Richardson (Polonius), Sven Medvesek (Laertes), Vili Matula (Horatio) and John Burgess (Ambassador from England).


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