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It was almost embarrassing to watch this film. I felt like somebody crawled into my skull and rummaged around until they found the elements of the perfect movie.

I've read Pete Seeger's autobiography, "The Incomplete Folk Singer," and the autobiography of Joan Baez, "Daybreak" along with seeing the two of them in concert several times. I have played the music of Woody Guthrie, Pete Seeger, Joan Baez and Bob Dylan so much that, finally, the grooves on their records said, "Look, we're exhausted. Play something else for a while."

That's my long-winded way of saying that everything felt authentic. In the opening scene Dylan takes his first steps in the Village. He passed Cafe Wha?. I started to cry. I became instantly homesick for that wonderful era.

Everyone was spot on. Timothee Chalamet was flawless as Dylan. I never thought anyone could get Joan Baez, but Monica Barbaro did a remarkable job (I wasn't familiar with her, but she just shot to the top of my list). But special praise has to be given to Ed Norton's transformation into Pete Seeger. There were times when he cocked his head or the breeze caught his hair or moved or inflected his voice or seeing him with his wife, Toshi, that Norton was gone. I only saw Pete. I cried when I saw him. I'm crying now, as I write this.

Please, if you know this era, and especially if you don't, see this movie.

Every once in a while we may see a film that we don't really care for. They weren't our cup of tea. For me, this was no such film. This is a picture that I actively and aggressively loathed. I am giving it three stars solely based on the performance of its star, Sandra Hüller, and its young co-star, Milo Machado Graner.

Yes, she was a mother and the accused, but other than that I don't feel like there was much reason to care about the main character, the writer, Sandra Voyter. The director, for whatever reason, decides to give her no places where I could really form a bond with her. The plot is moved forward by talking . . . And talking . . . And yet more talking. It had all the action of a freshly painted wall drying.

Near the beginning of the story (with multiple call backs later) we got treated to a deafening version of an instrumental cover of 50 Cent's "P. I. M. P." It was making me nauseous. I jammed my fingers in my ears to relieve the pain.

The movie's up for Best Picture in the 2024 Academy Awards (as well as Best Actress, Best Director and Best Editing). That's the only reason I stayed. I hope that there are worthier pictures from 2023 than this.

It's rare when we get a picture that is unlike anything that has ever been seen before and will ever be seen again. In that tiny club I'd place 2001: A Space Odyssey and Being John Malkovich as a pair of prime examples. There is a new member of that group. It is Poor Things.

Upfront I will warn you if you're offended by scenes of nudity (there's a lot of it) and sex. I empathize with you, if you have such misgivings. If that's you, this is not your film. If you can get around that, you're in for an amazing ride.

When I review a film on IMDB I always make it a point to resist the urge to synopsize. I will stay true to that here, save to say that this is inspired by Frankenstein (as it says in the movie's marketing). I'd also place a dash of Island of Dr. Moreau into the mix.

I always used to think of Emma Stone as a good actress. When I saw her in The Favourite I was forced to revise my opinion to great actress. After Poor Things she's in for another revision. She's a brilliant actress.

Amazing direction by Yorgos Lanthimos. Great script by Tony McNamara (based on a novel by Alasdair Gray). Memorable performances by Willem Dafoe, Mark Ruffalo and Ramy Youssef cap this off.

So, if you can tolerate sex and nudity, check this one out. You'll be pulled into a world that you have never imagined.