OK…… For the sake of not alienating my readers – all me of them – I will occupy this entry space with another film review.
The film is “Michael Clayton”. Films featuring eponymous (first and last name) titles (watch out, Roger Ebert – you might want to add this one to your Little Movie Glossary) have been a mixed bag, quality-wise.
Sure, there was the Oscar-winning slop of piety, “Mrs. Miniver,” and there was the original Sally Field-as-someone-who-needs-to-be-shut-up classic, “Norma Rae.” And “David Copperfield.”
I’ve been told that “Mr. Roberts” wasn’t bad. And, lest the phantom reader fear that I suffer for want of sufficient knowledge of movies titled in this fashion, I submit two further trenchant examples: “Happy Gilmore” and “Billy Madison.” Q.E.D.
But, as they say, it’s the exceptions that make the rule. “Charlotte Grey,” “Johnny Stecchino,” “Bugsy Malone,” and “Patch Adams,” just to name a few.