Chest, removal of things off

Sometimes it seems I'm the only one who likes a certain movie. This was the case with Eyes Wide Shut.

Other times, I feel alone in rejecting a critical darling. This is the case with Junebug.

I can't tell you not to see Junebug, because everyone I know has liked it, or at least proclaimed it quite watchable. Cinephiles whose taste I respect. You know who you are.

But I have to say (I hate to say), I was squirming for about 90 percent of this. Nearly everything about Junebug seemed wrong: the acting, the casting, the story, the writing, the situations/set pieces, the conclusions. The tone seemed off, irregular. It looked quite bad. (These eyes haven't seen a worse-looking movie since Sling Blade.) Is this really supposed to help blue staters understand the red states or whatever (as ads and reviews suggest)? Oh please.

The one glimmer of hope is the outsider artist character, the most vividly imagined person here—but he's squandered. (As an o.a. fiction film, it ranks higher than the disappointing The Next Big Thing, but it's no Henry Fool.)

There was also a brief scene at the brother's workplace (the brother is played by the Ryan guy from The O.C.*) that pointed to a way out of the claustrophobia—just coworkers bantering as they went about their business. It was refreshing and lasted for all of two minutes. The camera kept zooming in on their nametags, so you'd think that this would be an ongoing part of the story. But no—we never see them again!

OK. That's all for now.

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*I've watched The O.C. fairly regularly for the past two seasons; I haven't watched a single episode of the new season—is it because of Junebug?