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Tomatometers=6,2 of 10; Country=UK, Italy; 209 Votes; runtime=99 m; Actor=Donald Sutherland, Elizabeth Debicki;

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1:28 to 1:32 Okay, not sure how to feel about that line.

I love all the cast, Steve, Rose, Mackenzie... I must watch this ♥️. There's atleast four movies in this list that I want to see, which is really surprising because usually I find one or two new and watchable movies at the whole year. And these aren't even the only movies coming this year. Looking pretty good. It's amazing how your looks alone can catapult you to stardom. Feels like script and direction are bad... hopefully i'm wrong... The Burnt Orange Heresy Free stream of consciousness. The burnt orange heresy free stream voyage package.

Date Point: 16Y 7M 5D BV Bull of the Woods Wilderness Area, Oregon, United States Because I love you all so very much, and because Hambone is having to take a well-deserved month off, I decided it was a good time to post this story…. something to tide you thirsty lot over until the Maestro is back in the saddle. This is part 1 of what will probably be a five-part story, tying in with /u/hambone3110 ‘s excellent Deathworlders story. Many thanks, as usual, to Hambone for letting me play in his sandbox. Enjoy. “Christ, the road up here gets worse every year, ” Leslie grumbled to herself, regarding the old logging road ahead. The area above Breitenbush Hot Springs was one of her favorites to go camping in this time of year, and she’d figured with the early warm onset of late spring/early summer that the snow would be melted enough to get her Jeep in. The snow was the road, if one wanted to call it that, was barely worthy of the name anymore and if anything, actually was worse than when she’d been up here two summers previously. Oh well. At least it kept the idiots in the city vehicles out, mostly. Her destination was a day-hike in from where she’d planned to leave her vehicle, up and over a ridgeline and down into an isolated bowl canyon that was home to a pair of really pretty little mountain lakes. Later in the year, she didn’t like coming up here all that much, because you never knew what kind of monster-truck-driving redneck assholes would come in and fuck with peoples’ cars just for the hell of it. The Forest Service guys did their best to get up here regularly, checking on the trailheads, stocking the lakes with fish if they needed it, and ensuring that wayward campers were minding the fire restrictions, but the truth was, it was a big place with a lot of territory to cover. Somebody could get lost up here for a lifetime. She engaged the 4WD, and slowly continued on. Boulders stuck out of the hard clay every which way in a haphazard 3d puzzle, and here and there trees had blown down during the winter, forcing her to be extra careful not to bottom out. Fortunately, her Jeep had enough clearance. She just had to take it easy. It had been a hell of a year. Discovering that her now-ex-husband had gotten into meth and had drained what savings she’d been able to muster had been an unpleasant shock. Learning about the multiple credit cards he’d taken out in his name, their names, and her name had infuriated her, and had started her down the path to divorce. His drug-infused reaction to getting served had required police involvement, and now he was in jail again for beating the living shit out of her. Not for the first time, she consciously chose not to think of it in if I’d just seen it earlier self-blaming terms, and focused again on the task at hand. An indignant jay screamed at her from overhead, as her whip CB antenna jogged a branch just below where he sat safely above. Amused, she flipped him a quick middle finger and continued on around a puddle that was almost certainly much deeper than it looked. Everywhere, there was an explosion of fresh spring growth, as though everything growing up this high had lost weeks and was making up for it. Presently, she came to one of her favorite spots, where the road in intersected the eastern end of Elk Lake, and she was free for the first time to stop and really enjoy the view. A break in the trees gave her an unimpeded look across the mass of tangled ancient driftwood that led out to open water. The lake sat in a mountaintop bowl, surrounded on north and west sides by ridges of the Cascade Range that stretched upwards into bony rocky fingers denuded of trees. To the south was a smaller, more rounded ridge heavily wooded by ancient trees, and Leslie knew if she hiked up that way she’d be looking back down on the Detroit suming she wanted to see that, which she didn’t. The road led along the north side of the lake, garlanded on both sides in a tunnel of fir trees with wild tangled salmonberry thickets underneath. Here and there, small openings in the brush betrayed the presence of rabbits or other tunneling creatures who took refuge in its thorny protection. Leslie didn’t expect to see anything much moving. Her Jeep usually scared off the critters, although it certainly wasn’t as obnoxious as a lot of the 4WD vehicles one found in the woods. She cursed as one of her front tires caught a boulder she hadn’t seen and the Jeep bucked upwards suddenly. Eventually, her painstaking progress was rewarded with her intended parking spot, a sizeable meadow at the northwestern corner of the lake with a brisk stream of snowmelt burbling into the lake at one end. She parked, and got out to stretch. It’s so quiet. It really was. Only the sound of the wind, the chattering of birds, and the fading distant drone of a small airplane greeted her. She cocked an eye at the sky, considering briefly whether she wanted to set out on the trail now, or get an early start on it the next day. She had intended to get up here and just go, but it was already midday, which meant when she finally got where she was going, she’d probably be setting up camp in the dark... “Nah. Fuggit, I’ll camp here tonight. Not like I’m in any kind of fuckin’ hurry, ” she finally muttered aloud. The matter settled, she moved her Jeep to the best campsite at the lake, just across the stream where it hit the lake, and set up camp. It didn’t take long. The campsite itself was already set up with a stash of wood, firepit, logs to sit on, well-combed flat spot for the light tent, which took all of a minute and a half to set up. Since she was hiking in, all of her stuff was of the ultra-light, highly efficient variety. Inside of ten minutes, she had things set to her satisfaction and sat down to think. Fish. I want fish. Suiting action to thought, she got out her rod and flies, taking her boots and socks off and wading into the shallows. The water, of course, was so cold, even in the shallows, that her feet were almost immediately numb. She dug her toes in, and cast out in the general direction of a deep spot protected by a boulder where it was likely there were fish lurking. Leslie had scarcely flicked her rod out for the third time when she got a hit. A good sized trout burst from the surface and lunged at her lure, grabbing it and immediately fighting the hook. It battled her hard all the way in, wriggling in the net and only subsiding when she put it down with a quick thrust of her belt knife. She regarded it for a moment, then turned and began wading back to shore. “Dang. I was gonna fish for longer. That was too quick! ” She regarded the fish lying limply in the net. “You musta been eager to get eaten, huh? ” She realized her mouth was already starting to water for the taste of freshly fried trout and made an executive decision to not wait for it. After was her post-divorce celebration trip, not…. Her good mood suddenly evaporated as she reminded herself that she wasn’t here to think about Lugnut, and with some effort put him out of mind. She set her prize down in a flat spot on one of the handy logs and busied herself getting her hatchet out to split some kindling and get a fire going. She had a camp stove, of one did not simply cook trout with propane when free firewood was at hand. Heresy. Besides, she wanted to conserve her fuel, and she had a feeling that having a fire tomorrow night might be much more difficult - the rangers didn’t stock firewood at campsites ten miles into the woods. She stacked up the kindling in a classic tent as her dad had showed her when she was little, stuck a burning bit of something into it, and before long, there was a merry crackling campfire popping away. Leslie watched it long enough to be sure it would self-sustain for a bit, banked a good-sized hunk of wood onto it, and then set about preparing her fish and getting the pan to cook it in ready. A little oil, some salt and pepper, a few herbs, and two well-cleaned fillets of rainbow trout later, everything sat sizzling in a pan over the fire, which by now had matured into a nice even heat. Leslie prodded at the fish with a fork, impatient for it to be done, and waiting to make sure it was done the way she wanted it. In what seemed like far too long, it was finally done, and she yanked it off the heat onto a waiting plate, nearly burning her lip as she scarfed it down without waiting for it to cool off. Fresh, hot, fried trout. Yum. “I think, if I could stay up here and never see another goddamn human being in my life, I’d be okay with that, ” she said aloud, wiping her chin with her shirt and pulling a lock of her hair back out of her face that had gotten free of the hairband. Twenty feet away a crow sat on a stump, regarding the leftover fish and then her alternately with an expectant eye. She barked a laugh. The crow didn’t budge a bit. “You want some of my fish, huh? Greedy fucker. Go catch your own, ” she told the crow, who only adjusted its feathers nonchalantly. Obviously, the thing had learned a thing or two about humans. Laughing again, she forked the last bit of the fish off her plate and flicked it towards the bird, who hopped down, grabbed the morsel and flew off without so much as a fare-thee-well. Shaking her head, she got her water pot out, filled it from the creek, and set it over the fire to heat. Dirty dishes were a good way to get other, less courteous visitors. While the water heated, she got out one of the few non-minimal camping supplies she had brought with her out of the prized camp chair. Logs to sit on were all very nice and everything, but they lacked a lot in lumbar support or the dignity she felt was clearly her due. Unfolding it and getting out a book, she settled in to spend the afternoon comfortably reading and drinking one of the beers she’d brought up on the off chance she’d have a chance to drink them. Her water was hot enough to wash with at about the same time her beer was done, and sighing, she set the book aside and got up to take care of business. Humming tunelessly as she scrubbed the plate and pan clean with camp soap and some sand, the hot water sloughed the mess off the aluminum and then she rinsed in the stream. “I think, ” she thought out loud to whatever was listening, “the best thing about this place is no people. No phones, no radios, nobody bugging me to sign this or look at that. ” She cracked open a second beer and regarded the lake. A breeze had kicked up a little while she’d been working, riffling the water and teasing at her hair. “Just me and whatever lives out here. ” Overhead, an osprey circled silently, obviously with the same intention as she’d had earlier towards the fish in the lake. Grasshoppers in the meadow buzzed at one another. The silence was almost loud… “God, I’ve missed this. ” She sat back in her chair, lifted her book again, and engrossed herself in The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe. Some time later, perhaps an hour or two, she belatedly realized that she hadn’t put out anything to repel bugs, scratching absently at a mosquito bite and grumbling to herself. Her friends had all had one recommendation on this score or another, suggesting “anything with DEET”, for the most part, but Leslie preferred her own solution and layered up with Avon’s ‘Skin So Soft’, which her own long-dead father and most of her male cousins she’d gone camping in the Midwest as a child with had always sworn by. It certainly seemed to do the trick. She tossed another log or two on her dwindling fire, let it burn up a little, and got out the marshmallows. Cutting a slender alder switch and trimming off the excess buds and limbs took only a moment. She stuck two marshmallows on it and held them over the fire, turning quickly to avoid any burning - her daughter, now 19 and both enrolled at and working at Oregon State University over the summer, had always liked them burnt on the outside, but Leslie considered that the very height of marshmallow heresy. She hummed to herself, getting them toasted juuuust right, and then pulled them off when they were a perfect golden-brown all the way ‘round, middles gooey and sticky. With the ease of long practice, she pulled them off with readied graham crackers and chocolate, and downed the s’more with relish. It was getting dark enough that she was having trouble reading, and she put her book back in her pack for the morrow. The hike would probably only actually take about four hours, tops, unless there had been some blowdown or a rock slide or something, although the snow had been melted long enough that one of the rangers had to have been up the trail far enough to check for anything like that. There should be signs at the trailhead if so. She gazed into the fire, watching the embers flicker like something breathing and alive. The sudden glimmer of headlights on the access road caught the corner of her eye, and she raised a hand to shade the light of the fire from her eyes as she looked. One vehicle. An SUV, unless she missed her guess, and giggled a little as the lights suddenly bounced when the driver hit a particularly large boulder. Yup. That’s the Forest Service guy. He’s out late. Perhaps ten minutes later, the crawling 4x4 made its way around to her end of the lake, and pulled up. The driver thoughtfully didn’t point his lights directly at her tent, which was nice, although she wasn’t sleeping. A door opened, and a man got out, walking over with a tired step. “Evening…, hey, Leslie. Haven’t seen you up here in a while, ” came a male voice. “You’re up here kinda late, aren’t you, Hank? ” she returned with a grin. “Decided I was gonna get a start on everybody else this year, while I could still have a fire. ” Hank laughed, coming into the light from the fire. “Yeah. I figured there might be somebody up here with this weekend, and thought I’d take one last swing up this way on my way back down to the Detroit station. ” He ran a practiced eye over her campsite. “I know I don’t have to tell you the rules on a campfire - no advisories yet, but just be sure it’s out all the way before you go in the morning, all right? ” Leslie nodded. “You know I will. And you can say you went over them with me. We’ll call it good. ” “Sounds like a plan. I’ll be up here again mid-morning, but I’m guessing you’ll be gone by then. ” “Oh yeah. Gonna be up and on the trail at dawn - by mid-morning, I should be most of the way to Twin Lakes. ” She nodded again. “If I still had any fish I’d offer you some, but I’m afraid I finished the one I caught off. And yes, I have a license, before you ask. ” Hank chuckled again. “All right. I’ll probably see you when you come back down, then. Hike safe! ” He turned and walked back to his still-running SUV, climbed in, and pulled back out, following the bumpy road back around the lake. Leslie sighed to herself as the last glimmer of his headlights disappeared at the other end of the lake. Now and again, she could still see the bounce upwards as Hank evidently hit a rock or something, illuminating the overhead trees, but even that was gone in a few short minutes. Her fire had started to dwindle to coals, and she looked upwards to the stars. The great shining pathway of the Milky Way shone brightly overhead, the moon not yet up to drown any of it out. In the woods, the occasional hoot of an owl and nighttime noises of animals echoed hauntingly. Happy, for what seemed like the first time in years, she retired to her tent and sleeping bag and laid on her back regarding the stars that seemed closer and more luminous than they usually were. A thought struck her, and she pulled a double-fist-sized bundle out of her pack. The Colt M1911 in its holster didn’t make a lump that was too big. She tucked it under her pillow, sighed again, and closed her eyes. Dawn came obnoxiously early. Leslie had, for once, fallen fast asleep and had stayed asleep the entire night. The immediate explosion of birdsong the instant that a distantly rising sun started illuminating the eastern mountains with a bit of pink was impossible to sleep through, and it only got worse as everyone in the woods woke up and apparently began yelling at one another to shut up. At least, that’s how it seemed. Not having a translator for ‘bird’, all she could do was assume, but it seemed like a safe assumption. Either they were yelling at each other to shut up, or they were trying to outdo one another to demand sex. She thought she remembered reading that somewhere. It was beautiful, but obnoxious. Leslie rolled out of the tent with a long-suffering groan, stood, and knuckled her back. “Fuuuuuuck. I’m sure not twenty anymore. ” She stretched and was rewarded with a pop from something in her back that felt wonderful. “Ahhhh. Better. Lessee what we got for breakfast, here. ” She dug around in the back of the Jeep and came up with a Powerbar, a bag of dried apricots, and a couple of GatorAde packets, one of which she dumped into a bottle of water and shook up to mix. The fire was long since out, save for a few coals deep in the pit, which she snuffed out with a pan of water from the creek. The tent was packed up in moments, once she was done eating, and strapped back onto her pack, with the sleeping bag just below it. She ran a practiced eye over the campsite, and decided there would be nothing left other than the burnt-out ash in the fire pit. Starting the Jeep up, she drove back across the creek and up to the parking spot next to the main trailhead, parked, and got out for one last stretch. Having had some experience, and despite her encounter with Hank the night before, Leslie had prepped a note for her dashboard: 1 ADULT - DEPARTING TO TWIN LAKES 6/6, ESTIMATED RETURN DATE 6/20. NO VALUABLES IN CAR.. She tucked it under a clip glued just under the windshield, made sure there was nothing inside, took her vehicle registration and other paperwork, and closed the doors. She opened the back, took out her pack and walking stick, put the last items away, hoisted the pack onto her back, locked the car, and set off. The sun hadn’t quite even peeked over the horizon yet. In the distance, Mt. Bachelor was backlit with a violent display of bright red, orange, pink, and purple wispy clouds. The trail to the actual trailhead was a steeply inclined ancient logging road that didn’t even still deserve the term, water-ruts worn in its surface two and three feet deep and the bony knees of tree roots sticking out this way and that. The trailhead always took her a little by surprise. It was terribly everyone that used it agreed was for the best, since it probably prevented more visitors. Just off the “road”, a little lectern stood, with a notebook inside for signing in/out and a little box of plastic baggies for waste. She signed in, put the date down, and grabbed several bags; she had her own, of course, but it was always good to have extras. Initially, the trail went horizontally along the ridgeline to circuit around a gigantic granite boulder that was roughly the size of an average family home. The switchbacks began, and she could look up the slope through the trees in places and see three or four lines of trail ahead of her. Ancient rotted stumps stuck out of the hillside still, mute testament to the logging efforts nearly a hundred years before, and hidden almost entirely by new growth of trees that were nonetheless four and a half feet, or a meter and a half, in diameter. Squirrels and birds yammered at one another overhead as she climbed patiently. Nearly an hour later, the sun had grudgingly clawed its way over the horizon. Leslie had been taking breaks just about every other switchback, in no real hurry and enjoying the view as she climbed higher and higher. The ridgeline she was making for was something like five hundred feet vertical climb in a half mile, which translated to lots of back and forth. Eventually, she came to the last one, before the trail finally turned and headed up and over a saddle, and she found herself looking out across the valley towards the now-risen sun and the peaks of Mt. Bachelor and the Three Sisters off in the distance. Summer or no summer, those peaks still had snow and would, she knew, until probably late July or early August. Sunbeams streaked this way and that through early morning mist clinging futilely to tree limbs. Not a single noise from another human being. Yeah. I needed this. Leslie turned, and began the last portion of the climb. The trail wended its way eventually to follow the curves of terrain around the peak off to her left, which she could actually see now. It had been obscured from the time she left the trailhead way down in the valley. She had to think for a moment. What was it named again? Battle Axe? She nodded to herself. That was it, yeah. Battle Axe. Whether that was because of its edge of volcanic rock and broken boulder fields of granite slabs, or whether someone doing surveys had hated their mother-in-law, she had no idea. As she descended the back side of the ridgeline, the vast fir trees gave way to much smaller vine maples dotted here and there with the bluish color of spruce trees. She was halfway through the first major slope of massive, car-sized boulders, when about twenty feet away, a fuzzy face stuck itself up out of a space and began hollering at her for all the world like some indignant old man yelling at kids to get off his damn lawn. It startled her at first, and then when she began laughing, it stood up on its back feet and continued giving her what-for at the top of its little lungs, undeterred and unconcerned about the Very Large Intruder standing on what she supposed was probably its front porch. “Okay, okay!!! I’m going! I’m going, Jesus! ” she said, still laughing. She walked away, and began laughing anew when it stopped chattering, then issued a parting shot that almost certainly translated as Yeah, you better keep walking. Picking her way across the rest of the boulder field, she wondered idly if everybody got that treatment from what she was pretty sure was a yellow bellied marmot, or if she was the first human it had seen this year. She chuckled whenever she thought about it for quite a while, taking a break at a hundred-year-old benchmark marker that announced that she was at 4, 600 feet above sea level. The trail followed the ridgeline, mostly, dropping off one side or the other occasionally to circuit around a large obstacle. Salal, huckleberry, and salmonberry bushes lined the sides of the trail wherever a natural spring bubbled up, giving way to more fir and spruce. Several more large granite boulder fields had to be crossed, but nothing more jumped out at her to announce its displeasure at her presence. Twice, she saw deer in the distance, but they were wary of humans and melted back into the timber before she got anywhere close. By mid-morning, she’d reached the valley. Twin Lakes lay below. The trail here took a sudden hairpin turn to the left and began descending in a long circuit, before finally ending on the valley floor below. About halfway down, she smelled charred wood and spotted a tree split in twain from what was unmistakably a lightning strike. The fire was out, thankfully. Everything was still wet enough that it wasn’t easy to get something burning at this point in the season, but she knew by mid-summer, that would change. She’d have to let Hank know when she came back down; lightning strikes could sometimes ignite the forest duff below the surface, smoulder for weeks, and then flare up when things dried out into an unexpected wildfire. He’d want to come up and have a look. She made a mental note of it, and paused to rest her knees a little. Almost there. She wasn’t sure if she intended to stay here for the full two weeks, or if she wanted to go further into the wilderness. This was a good day-hike, but the problem was, it was still only a few hours’ walk from the trailhead, and the longer she was here, the more likely another visitor was. The whole point was though other people rarely came up even this far unless they were dedicated about it. “Time enough to consider that tomorrow, ” she said out loud, almost to the bottom. This close to the campground, most of the dead brush and trees had been surreptitiously cleared out by other well-meaning visitors who hadn’t brought camp stoves. Hitching rails had been set up by some of the more enterprising folks who came up here with horses or mules, although Leslie couldn’t imagine trying to get a horse trailer in over the access road that led to Elk Lake, much less coaxing a horse to climb up the switchbacks that formed the first part of the trail. She found her intended campsite, screened from the trail down by a truly enormous cedar encircling the spot and leaning out over the lake shore. In the water, blown-down trees lay partly submerged, forming homes and hiding places for frogs, newts, and some fish. Out on the water, bugs flew to and fro, occasionally getting nabbed by the accurate mouth of a trout breaching the surface. Leslie found her tree, where a younger version of herself many years ago had actually carved her initials into the bark, and shrugged her pack off with a relieved sigh. She got a canteen out and drank thirstily. The day passed much as the prior one had, minus a fire. She was mindful of Hank’s warning about fire season; while there weren’t any advisories yet, she knew that the conditions up here were still good for a fire getting away from her. Between that and the general lack of other fuel to burn, she elected for a cold camp and called it good. First, the tent went up. She’d left her camp chair in the Jeep after a lengthy back and forth argument with herself about whether the more comfort seating was worth the trouble to lug it up and back down again, and the comfy-chair side of that discussion had, predictably, lost. Overhead, as she erected the poles and hammered the tent stakes into the dirt, a jay squawked obnoxiously, then flew off to look for something more interesting than a lone human. She unrolled her sleeping bag, and set her pack down where it’d be unmolested by enterprising squirrels or nosy birds - not that there was much in there to garner their attention anyway, and all of the food was vacuum sealed anyway, but better safe than sorry. She again got out her fishing pole and embarked on a journey to catch something for dinner. Unlike the previous day, however, she didn’t get any bites immediately, or even within the first hour or so. Undeterred, she moved from point to point, flicking the fly lure out, back, out, …….. … Finally, she got a hit, reeling in the wriggling trout and subduing it as she had before. This time, she opted for some additional supplies out of her pack to go with it. Frugally, of course - she had packed in everything else she was going to eat, so the space and weight were at a premium. When night descended, she gratefully fell into her bag, and into a deep sleep. She was never seen on Earth again. Author’s postscript: So I’m trying something a little different with this one, which will become more clear as we go. This story will tie in with the main storyline, I telling you where that tie-in is would give away the ending for the astute. In case it isn’t rampantly obvious, this particular place in the beginning of this story is one of my favorite places on Earth. In my opinion, it’s one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever been or seen, and if I had pictures from any of the multiple camping trips I’ve made there over the years, I’d happily insert them into the story. As it is, I linked the Google Maps coordinates at the beginning - try flying over it in Google Earth. Even that doesn’t quite do it ’s some rugged territory. For those who understand topographical maps, have a look at the contour lines here. The trailhead is just below the ‘H’ in Hood - the dotted line indicating the trail doesn’t come close to how many switchbacks are actually there, believe me. My Wiki Next >>>

Interesting... The new mutants looks like a horror movie not kidding. The Burnt Orange Heresy Free stream online. Love when he walks in and says 'yeah, I like that one' when they're playing Bittersweet Symphony - a song that the Verve didn't receive royalties for because they were taken to court for stealing the main riff. from the Rolling Stones. The Burnt Orange Heresy Free streaming sur internet. Find the best for your family See what's streaming, limit strong violence or language, and find picks your kids will love with Common Sense Media Plus. Join now Pill-popping art drama explores truth; smoking, cursing. Get it now Searching for streaming and purchasing options... Common Sense is a nonprofit organization. Your purchase helps us remain independent and ad-free. Get it now on Searching for streaming and purchasing options... Your purchase helps us remain independent and ad-free. A lot or a little? The parents' guide to what's in this movie. The film debates the value of truth; at the heart of it is this line: "Never let anything's worth obscure its value. " Positive Role Models & Representations While it's tough to consider any of the characters truly positive role models, one, as flawed as she may be, insists on the truth. Another has escaped the need to be rich, famous, and celebrated and is content to enjoy his talent without receiving praise. Violent attacks against a woman are shown; she's seen in extreme distress. A story about a brother and sister who've passed away includes graphic descriptions of how they died. Prolonged, graphic sex scene between a couple who've just met. A woman's breasts are on view for a long time, and a man is shown naked from the side and the back. Strong language includes "f--k" and "whore. " A character challenges the other to call him names, including "a--hole, " "bastard, " "c--ksucker, " "motherf--ker. " Obvious brands include Range Rover and an Apple laptop. The setting for most of the story is a luxury vacation home that's aspirationally gorgeous. Storyline values possessing expensive art and prestige over humanity. Drinking, Drugs & Smoking Both lead characters smoke cigarettes frequently. Aspirational characters drink during the day. One main character abuses prescription drugs regularly; the other participates once but makes it clear that she believes he has a problem and doesn't take any more after that. He suffers no consequences for his addiction, and it's not a factor in his decision making. Stay up to date on new reviews. Get full reviews, ratings, and advice delivered weekly to your inbox. Subscribe User Reviews There aren't any reviews yet. Be the first to review this title. What's the story? In THE BURNT ORANGE HERESY, sfter an impulsive hookup, art critic James Figueras ( Claes Bang) invites Berenice ( Elizabeth Debicki) to accompany him on a trip to a fancy Lake Como estate. While there, the estate's gallerist/art collector owner, Joseph ( Mick Jagger), makes James an unethical offer that would make his professional dreams come true. Is it any good? This highbrow adaptation of Charles Willeford's novel still feels like a book. It's thick with eloquent speeches that seem more like lyrical poetry than dialogue; intriguing, highly-flawed characters; and doubts about who to trust. The film's literary nature, combined with the Italian location and high art subject matter, make for a pretentious movie -- but that's the very idea. From the moment we meet James, we see that he's turned himself into a elitist showboat for whom truth is just an illusion. He quickly attaches to the equally confident Berenice, who's openly hiding her true self. As they debate the merits of honesty on their way to visit James, the film plays out like a mystery (it's not): Where is it all going? Who's the hero, and who's the villain? When those questions are answered, it's not what you'd expect. The ending even takes a bit of digesting: You might have to talk it out to arrive at the conclusion -- which is really more fun, isn't it? The Burnt Orange Heresy is neo-noir -- bright and light instead of dark and shadowy -- and while Bang and Debicki are full of talent, they're not Bogart and Bacall. Their characters are charisma vacuums, one so arrogantly unethical and the other so smugly clever. She seems too smart to be willing to spend her time with a man who's so unworthy of her. Clue crumbs are there to pick up, but viewers might need a whole loaf of bread to understand some of her decisions. Co-star  Donald Sutherland, playing an artist living in self-imposed exile, is a true talent, but he isn't believable here. And even though he's styled as a well-groomed uppercrust patron of the arts, it's impossible to accept Jagger as anyone other than himself. Still, it's fun to watch him: It's a rare opportunity to just look at his craggy face and think about the full life he's lived. The Burnt Orange Heresy  is a piece of statement art, and while it doesn't paint its picture as clearly as a parent might like, the brushstrokes will fill your thoughts for days. Talk to your kids about... Families can talk about "the power of the critic. " What are some examples of influencers who affect society -- or your life? Where does their credibility come from? Think about the celebrities or experts who shape your opinions: Why do you trust them? Discuss James' stance on honesty. He seems to agree with the adage, "Never let the truth get in the way of a good story. "  How does that contrast with Berenice? What's your opinion? How are flies used as a storytelling device and a throughline? What do they symbolize in The Burnt Orange Heresy? How are  smoking and drug use  portrayed in the film? Are they glamorized? What does that tell us about the characters? How does this neo-noir film compare to the noir classics? Themes & Topics Our editors recommend Art-centered drama about loss has teen drinking, drug use. Great hardboiled detective film is very violent. Excellent, but too mature for the littlest kids. Classic noir gem has menace, innuendo. Some violence and postwar trauma in whip-smart biopic. Common Sense Media's unbiased ratings are created by expert reviewers and aren't influenced by the product's creators or by any of our funders, affiliates, or partners. See how we rate.

Videos Learn more More Like This Comedy | Drama 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 7. 2 / 10 X When seriously ill teenager Milla falls madly in love with smalltime drug dealer Moses, it's her parents' worst nightmare. But as Milla's first brush with love brings her a new lust for... See full summary  » Director: Shannon Murphy Stars: Ben Mendelsohn, Eliza Scanlen, Essie Davis 7. 4 / 10 The unfolding of the single largest public school embezzlement scandal in history. Cory Finley Allison Janney, Hugh Jackman, Kathrine Narducci 6. 9 / 10 An artist is suspected of selling a valuable painting to the Nazis, but there is more to the story than meets the eye. Dan Friedkin Daan Aufenacker, Claes Bang, Mark Behan 6. 6 / 10 A stormy reunion between scriptwriter Lumir with her famous mother and actress, Fabienne, against the backdrop of Fabienne's autobiographic book and her latest role in a Sci-Fi picture as a mother who never grows old. Hirokazu Koreeda Catherine Deneuve, Juliette Binoche, Ethan Hawke 5. 6 / 10 Satire about the world of the super-rich. Michael Winterbottom Asa Butterfield, Sophie Cookson, Isla Fisher Horror Thriller 6. 8 / 10 Hunter, a newly pregnant housewife, finds herself increasingly compelled to consume dangerous objects. As her husband and his family tighten their control over her life, she must confront the dark secret behind her new obsession. Carlo Mirabella-Davis Haley Bennett, Austin Stowell, Denis O'Hare History 5. 7 / 10 Yu Jin is working undercover gathering intelligence for the Allies. Ye Lou Li Gong, Mark Chao, Pascal Greggory Mystery 7 / 10 While grieving for the loss of their mother, the Connolly Sisters suddenly find they have a crime to cover up, leading them deep into the underbelly of their salty Maine fishing village. Directors: Bridget Savage Cole, Danielle Krudy David Coffin, David Pridemore, Adam Wolf Mayerson 5. 4 / 10 Veronica wants to remain in jail for a sexual assault she knows she's been wrongfully indicted for. She and her father, Jim, find themselves acting out of the bounds of good behavior as the past haunts them. Atom Egoyan David Thewlis, Luke Wilson, Sima Fisher The story of five Cuban political prisoners who had been imprisoned by the United States since the late 1990s on charges of espionage and murder. Olivier Assayas Ana de Armas, Penélope Cruz, Wagner Moura 7. 1 / 10 A loner and cook (John Magaro) has traveled west and joined a group of fur trappers in Oregon Territory, though he only finds connection with a Chinese immigrant (Orion Lee). The men... See full summary  » Kelly Reichardt John Magaro, Orion Lee, Rene Auberjonois Biography 4. 8 / 10 Inspired by real events in the life of French New Wave icon Jean Seberg. In the late 1960s, Hoover's FBI targeted her because of her political and romantic involvement with civil rights activist Hakim Jamal. Benedict Andrews Kristen Stewart, Yvan Attal, Gabriel Sky Edit Storyline Hired to steal a rare painting from one of most enigmatic painters of all time, an ambitious art dealer becomes consumed by his own greed and insecurity as the operation spins out of control. Plot Summary Add Synopsis Motion Picture Rating ( MPAA) Rated R for some sexual content/nudity, language, drug use and violence. See all certifications  » Details Release Date: 6 March 2020 (USA) See more  » Also Known As: The Burnt Orange Heresy Company Credits Technical Specs See full technical specs  » Did You Know? Trivia The film had its world premiere at the 76th Venice International Film Festival on 07 September 2019. Shortly after, Sony Pictures Classics acquired distribution rights to the film. See more ».

The burnt orange heresy free streaming. March 4, 2020 | 4:55pm “Please allow me to introduce myself/I’m a man of wealth and taste. ” So sings Mick Jagger at the beginning of the Rolling Stones classic “Sympathy for the Devil. ” But when that “man of wealth and taste” met the cast and crew on the set of “The Burnt Orange Heresy” — the new art-heist drama co-starring Jagger, which hits theaters Friday — you can bet no one had any trouble guessing his name. Certainly not the film’s lead actor, Claes Bang, who was more worried about keeping his cool. “The first thing I thought was, they need to make sure that I sit down when they bring him into the room ’cause I might faint or something, ” says Bang, who has several scenes with Jagger in the rock legend’s first film role since 2001’s “The Man from Elysian Fields. ” But instead, Bang got right down to business with Jagger. “Meeting him, I sort of skipped all the formalities and jumped straight into work, ” says Bang, who stars as an art critic scheming with an art dealer played by Jagger. “Even before I said hello, I said, ‘Hey, it’s good that you’re here. We need to talk about this scene. ’ ” Mick Jagger in “The Burnt Orange Heresy” Courtesy Sony Pictures Classics Director Giuseppe Capotondi says “it was quite unnerving” going to Jagger’s London office to meet with him about the role in August 2018, a month before shooting began. “He’s the most famous rock star in the world, ” the director says. “But the moment I entered, he was very approachable and nice and sweet. I asked him why he didn’t do anything [with film acting] in 20 years, and he said it was because he didn’t have time, that his music and his band kept him away. ” Now, though, the timing was perfect for Capotondi, who had sent Jagger the script after hearing from “a friend of a friend” that he was looking for another movie role after previously acting in 1970’s “Ned Kelly, ” 1992’s “Freejack” and 1997’s “Bent. ” “We got lucky that he had the month free, so he could actually do it, ” Capotondi says. Mick Jagger in 1997's "Bent" ©MGM/Courtesy Everett Collection Mick Jagger in 1992's "Freejack" ©Warner Bros/Courtesy Everett Collection Mick Jagger in 1970's "Ned Kelly" Courtesy Everett Collection Mick Jagger in 2001's "The Man from Elysian Fields" Courtesy Everett Collection “The script was really interesting and different and literary and surprising, ” Jagger said at last year’s Venice Film Festival, which “The Burnt Orange Heresy” closed. But he said that his interest had nothing to do with him being an avid art collector himself: “I’m not really a collector. I throw things away. I buy things and then lose them. I’m a completely hopeless collector. ” Still, Jagger did his homework in the art world to become Joseph Cassidy. “He did his own research with his gallerist friends, ” says Capotondi. The director says that Jagger possessed certain qualities he was looking for in the character: “We were looking for someone of British heritage who could play … a serpentine character who is the devil in this Faustian tale, ” says Capotondi. “He’s got the face and the persona for it. Onstage, he’s quite devilish. ” Mick Jagger as Joseph Cassidy and Claes Bang as James Figueras in “The Burnt Orange Heresy” Sony Pictures Classics But Jagger wanted to make sure to separate the Rolling Stone from the role, offering some suggestions for his transformation. “He was very clear that he didn’t want to look like Mick Jagger [as much as] possible, ” says Capotondi. “And so we changed his hairstyle, for example. The way he dresses is nothing like Mick Jagger. And as for his accent, Jagger said, ‘Why don’t we try and give him an accent from Chelsea — the neighborhood in London — from the ’60s and ’70s, when Chelsea was a bit rough around the edges? ’ ” Bang was impressed that Jagger “didn’t bring the rock star thing into it, ” conducting himself just like any other actor — even if he sells out stadiums. “He was very humble, such a team player and just all about … doing exactly what he needed to do in order for the story to work, ” he says. “I mean, that’s a dream colleague, really. ”.

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