Jessica Kiang Less interesting subjects than Olympia Dukakis have been profiled in more compelling documentaries than Harry Mavromichalis’ “Olympia,” a fervently admiring but scattered and sometimes scatty portrait of a woman who is anything but.
Although peppered with tantalizingly salty-mouthed anecdotes and wry observations on aging, sexuality, outsider status and the art of performance, the film is hampered by its overly fannish tone, too dazzled by the self-described “octogenarian motherf—er” to be able to meet her own forthright, iconoclastic, penetrating gaze without looking quickly away again.A striking, blue-tinged extreme-shallow-focus closeup on Dukakis’ fantastic face, that brings out both the age lines and the luminosity of.
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