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Parents
A psychological rectification of kitsch and its destructive countersign,
but the real secondary theme is of less interest than Balaban’s art with
the re-creation of society now in collapse.
Or, to look at it another way, a child’s-eye view
reckoning all childish distortions into an equation that corrects for distortion.
The galvanic comic propensities of Sandy Dennis are exhibited.
The entire cast is not to be missed in this.
Honestly, you give the critics a little surrealism and the
lights go out, they can’t find their popcorn with both hands, let alone
the exit.
I guess they don’t read much, or see many plays or good
films. Freud or Albee or The Vault of Horror would serve the purpose.
Is it still presumed that actors can’t direct?