Sally Fields is great as Doris. It’s not that much of an exaggeration to say that her Doris—a 60-ish, never-wed office worker whose sheltered life spent on Staten Island with a cat, a demanding invalid mother and decades of clutter she can't bear to part with is lovable in ways that the slapstick comedians of the silent film era were. She says almost as much as they do in public situations and it is her lack of verbalization that allows those around her to project onto her the personality they prefer. Despite her age, she is a blank canvas, liberated by the death of her mother, but sadly almost too old to really enjoy her freedom. She even dresses the part in what used to be Salvation Army toss-offs but have since been reclaimed in this age of shabby-chic as vintage wear. We laugh at her foibles, applaud her small victories, agonize over her questionable choices and share her growth pains. Saturday, August 20, 2016
Hello, My Name is Doris (2016)
Sally Fields is great as Doris. It’s not that much of an exaggeration to say that her Doris—a 60-ish, never-wed office worker whose sheltered life spent on Staten Island with a cat, a demanding invalid mother and decades of clutter she can't bear to part with is lovable in ways that the slapstick comedians of the silent film era were. She says almost as much as they do in public situations and it is her lack of verbalization that allows those around her to project onto her the personality they prefer. Despite her age, she is a blank canvas, liberated by the death of her mother, but sadly almost too old to really enjoy her freedom. She even dresses the part in what used to be Salvation Army toss-offs but have since been reclaimed in this age of shabby-chic as vintage wear. We laugh at her foibles, applaud her small victories, agonize over her questionable choices and share her growth pains.
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