Watch Sunday For Free

Sick Product of a Sick System

Highly Overrated But Still Good

It's hard to see any effort in the film. There's no comedy to speak of, no real drama and, worst of all.

It’s not bad or unwatchable but despite the amplitude of the spectacle, the end result is underwhelming.

Talking to a family friend about films he was after,I got told about an indie movie starring David Suchet. Checking on Amazon,I was surprised to find that it had only come out on DVD in France,which led to me watching it before the end of the week.The plot:Walking back home with a plant, former actress Madeleine Vesey spots a homeless man who looks just like film maker Matthew Delacorta. Believing him to be Delacorta, Vesey takes him for a bite at a diner. Attempting to talk about his work,Vesey finds Delacorta's memories to remain vague. Over the next few days "Delacorta" hints to Vesey that he is actually a different guy called Oliver,which leads to Vesey struggling to tell what is real and what is fiction with Oliver/Delacorta.View on the film:For a title shot in the US with two non-American leads using fake US accents and the film itself only being on DVD in France,co-writer (with James Lasdun)/director Jonathan Nossiter fittingly goes for a peculiar atmosphere,with the indoor scenes being shot in cramped camera angles that bring a tight closeness to Oliver/Delacorta and Vesey's relationship. Making his first non-documentary work, Nossiter retains the grit in his fiction debut via taking inspiration from the American New Wave and shooting on the streets of Queens New York.Subtly slipping in an ingenious twist ending,the screenplay by James Lasdun and Nossiter keep the dialogue wonderfully brittle,as Oliver / Matthew Delacorta vagueness over his identity allows Vesey to paint their relationship/ the "homeless man" into the corner that she sees fit. Bravely appearing naked in sex scenes, Lisa Harrow and David Suchet each give impeccable performances as Vesey and Oliver / Matthew Delacorta. Openly stating the pity she feels for him in front of his face,Harrow gives Vesey an expressive bohemian vibe,which strikes a fuse when Vesey learns left-field secrets about Oliver / Matthew Delacorta. Playing his real identity constantly in doubt, David Suchet shines in his timed exchanges with Vesey,and a fumble nature in revealing personal info at the end of the week.

I doubt many people will care about this review of a 20 year old movie. I've read over 30 previously posted reviews and the verdict seems pretty consistent. This is a unique, brave, sensitive project with two stellar performances at its center. There's a lot of ambiguity and confusion in the script, leading to quite a range of reviewer interpretations. Is he, isn't he? Can they, can't they? These two lost souls have the ability and opportunity to rescue each other as friends and lovers, but come the crunch seem to back away from it. They come tantalizingly close, but just can't make it happen. They're both too broken. She refuses to let him be who he is, even though he's risked everything to admit his identity. She just won't have any of it. When he wanders off into the lonely night at the end, you realize they aren't capable of more.Only two reviews I read here, both "professional," commented on the nudity. It is so refreshing to see un-self-conscious nude scenes by two middle aged actors. Lisa Harrow was a beautiful 54 year old woman when she made this film. Women everywhere, especially those who rail against the cult of youth, should applaud Ms. Harrow for her willingness to bare all for her art. One critic observed that her character seems more comfortable in her body than in her life.The documentary-like footage of a homeless shelter was my least favorite part of the film, but arguably it is necessary to establish the indignity to which David Suchet's life has fallen. All in all, this is a rewarding film. It's not a date movie (unless you want to get a real quick read on your partner). It's not a family movie. Are they still making indie films like this? If not, the loss is ours.

This movie is similar to 'The Player' and 'Adaptation', a movie within a movie, which most of the comments seem to miss. All of the comments on this movie seem to assume that 'Matthew' is really a homeless person. The last part of the movie, however, indicates that Oliver is really Matthew Delacorta. You hear his fellow mates at the shelter saying he had a wad of $20's. You see him tip the diner waiter generously. This man has money. His new movie is supposedly named 'Diversion'. He mentions the stars in the movie to be his fellow shelter bums. In the penultimate scene, what is popping out of the computer printer is an article on a movie 'Diversion' with a picture of someone who looks like Oliver.This explains the scene at the end, where he stares at her and she looks depressed, because she realizes he really is Delacorta and is not a homeless person she picked up. He really is staying at the shelter to soak up some atmosphere. Realizing their relationship was based on her fantasy, which no longer exists, he leaves. We assume that subsequently he makes the movie about that day and calls it Sunday. A nice twist to a well-acted flick.

If Queens is truly an `un-place,' then 'Sunday' is an `un-film.' That is to say un-believably magnificent! To give this masterpiece a particular label, would rob this wonderfully imaginative film of the root of its quirky charm.I was not familiar with the work of either David Suchet or Lisa Harrow, though I did recognize the name of the director, Jonathan Nossiter.This delightful and honest film rearranges stereotypical categorizations and societal stigmas by transporting us to the `other side of the glass.' While not in great detail, we are acquainted with each member of the men's shelter, which is the location around which 'Sunday' revolves. Some characters are endearing, such as the Vietnamese man who sings opera tunes to canned music in the subway for change, or Ray, the red-haired chain-smoking man who roams the street looking at women's legs and relentlessly searching for the ultimate porn mag.I believe that this again supports the central theme, which discourages as well as discredits the practice of labeling and stigmatizing. The viewer is forced instead, to get to know the men and appreciate each of them on the basis of their individuality.'Sunday' creatively addresses many issues: shame, regret, pride, and deceit. Suchet's character, the protagonist, Oliver Levy-who may or may not be an alias for the famed film director, Matthew de la Corta-is a disillusioned middle-aged fellow who, by way of an unlikely exchange on the streets if Queens, meets Harrow's Madeleine, a woman of similar age and emotional status. The pretense of their meeting is initially awkward and unusual, if not completely bizarre.However, as the film progresses, a most amazing transformation occurs. Within a mere twelve-hour period, amid large amounts of uncertainty, assumption and tactful execution of the imagination, Madeleine and Matthew become tremendously close. By evening, after a few choice run-ins with Madeleine's estranged (as well as strange) husband, Ben, she and Matthew are seen holding hands in a Queens diner, talking intimately like old friends.The point is finally stated-after having been corroborated by the preceding film-that although the world would like to base our worth on `what we do,' in the sense of corporate achievement, the true quality of a person lies, rather, in who we think we are. The way in which we are perceived and subsequently accepted by the people who love us and believe in our potential to succeed, is far more instrumental in our pursuit of fulfillment.Life, inside as well as outside the shelter, is a collection of intricate and unique parts that constitute a whole. Each person has within himself or herself the power to be great, but greatness is subjective. This film proves that love can be found anywhere, whether in a shabby diner over the odd Ozarta, or while walking back from a subway lugging a large house plant.'Sunday' gloriously shows us that whether ones glasses are on or off, it is not with the eyes, but with the heart that we can clearly see the wondrous spectacle of true love.