Photo: Paul Auster's The Inner Life of Martin Frost
The inner life of Martin Frost reeks of misogyny and the film that enshrines his egomania makes half-assed aspirations to Goethe. Martin (David Thewlis) borrows an empty country house from his friends, seeking to reward himself for the years he spent writing his latest novel, but his peace and quiet is interrupted one morning by a woman lying in his bed. She says her name is Claire (Irčne Jacob), niece of one of the house's owners, but after Martin receives a phone call from his friends, he learns that she isn't who she claims. Because of love—or is it because of the sex she gives him?—Martin doesn't exactly press Claire for her true identity, but for the miracle of her sexual manna he should probably be thanking the heavens, from where, as it turns out, she might actually originate. Ed Gonzalez
The inner life of Martin Frost reeks of misogyny and the film that enshrines his egomania makes half-assed aspirations to Goethe. Martin (David Thewlis) borrows an empty country house from his friends, seeking to reward himself for the years he spent writing his latest novel, but his peace and quiet is interrupted one morning by a woman lying in his bed. She says her name is Claire (Irčne Jacob), niece of one of the house's owners, but after Martin receives a phone call from his friends, he learns that she isn't who she claims. Because of love—or is it because of the sex she gives him?—Martin doesn't exactly press Claire for her true identity, but for the miracle of her sexual manna he should probably be thanking the heavens, from where, as it turns out, she might actually originate. Ed Gonzalez
