Review by Matt Finley
It's a debate that's been waged at gallery openings, cocktail parties and during the lulls at high-class orgies - the concept underlying the execution, the intention behind the result: does it ever matter when judging a work of art? I know - I tend to be a bit liberal in offering passes to films whose creators have unofficially appended sad-eyed disclaimers via interview or commentary track blaming this or that iron-fisted corporate oligarch for undermining the translation of idea into expression. But even the most fervent formalists among you have gotta doff your "Death to the Artist" sandwich boards long enough to give a woot-woot to the1929 film QUEEN KELLY, 1/3 of a would've-been epic that's better for being a fragment of a goliath of a dream than a whole-cloth reproduction of a Lilliputian of an idea.
