A Home at the End of the World

Glad I’m down the street from the independent movie theater

I took a long lunch to go see A Home at the End of the World with my brother. I had read Michael Cunningham’s book a while back and was enamored by the beginning, left a bit empty by the ending.

The movie was better in a way.

One thing I couldn’t stand were the “period” wigs—the 70’s being so difficult.

Sure it was sticky with sap, but I dug the characters. I wanted to smoke a joint and slow dance with Sissy Spacek.