And we come to the month's last day, past the Summer Solstice 2016, firmly at the halfway mark of the baseball season, awaiting yet another celebration of our great nation's Declaration of Independence. All of which involve hot dogs, tater tots and beer. This is America after all, dammit. We are a lucky breed, we who populate this country. We might forget that at times, as matters anecdotal, such as rising Netflix prices and the increasing ubiquity of bike lanes, say, compound with matters grave like intentionally tainted drinking water and climate calamity resulting in wildfires in one area and catastrophic flooding in others. Things ain't perfect, but we do have a federal EPA, a disaster response agency with the call letters FEMA, and, on a much smaller level, the right and ability to yell loudly in the face of a dickhead cyclist who blows a red light as I step into their trajectory. It may never be great to live in America, no matter your complexion, your bank account, your bloodline, your address, your diploma, your acumen, your grit and resolve. It may never be great to live in America regardless of your benefits or detriments. But it will always be good. Always. For proof, I direct your attention to the majority of the rest of the world. You're welcome.
Now, to film. Pickin's be slim as they tend to be at every month's end, yet the choices are all more than worthwhile. Today's lone ongoing series is Modern Matinees: Fifteen by Otto Preminger at MoMA. The 4-perf field be thus;