I keep telling myself that the only person who is going to write my novel is me. Sadly my weekend consisted of more movie watching than novel writing. I added no more than a couple paragraphs to Chapter Three, but here are the one sentence reviews of the films:

Prime. Two stars. Predictable romantic comedy with boring characters and a far-fetched gimmicky plot that made me think less of Uma Thurman, Meryl Streep, the unknown forgettable actor who played the leading man, and whatever director, producer, and studio brought the sorry film to life.

Love, Ludlow. Four and a half stars. Offbeat romantic comedy about three charming misfits finding each other, featuring a moving performance by the actress who played the original Becky in Roseanne.

Transamerica. Five stars. What could be more fun than a road movie about a transexual who is masquerading as a born-again Christian to conceal her identity from her traveling partner, who happens to be the son she had when she was a man and just found out about, who is also a drug-addled hustler and a really nice kid?

A Winter Passing. Three and a half stars. Small-budget drama with a big-name cast who play troubled souls, who supposedly find a family in each other and are redeemed, but the interesting literary plot at times gets buried beneath a mountain of unnecessarily maudlin scenes.

One sentence reviews aren't quite as easy as I thought. I'll be a bit more pithy next time I waste my weekend away with movies.