Rebecca Murray’s “‘The Counselor’ Review” Induces Nostalgia, Time Travel
By Eugenius Antonius, Senior Critic
There is an air of familiarity about Rebecca Murray’s “The Counselor’ Movie Review, as well as a hint of deja vu. It is the medical equivalent of a textual aphrodisiac—without the side effects.
If home is a concept, and introspection the key to the door, Murray is the locksmith. She wields the uncanny ability to level critique such that it feels like a warm summer breeze. With every syllable, her descriptions, metaphors and anecdotes playfully convey her message, without sacrificing the slightest pertinent detail in the process. It’s truly a thing of beauty that audiences will cherish for years to come.
As they embed themselves in the passages, the reader will no doubt feel like they’ve been here before. An air of familiarity abounds; a smell, a warmth. Almost like being a kid again. Murray has a knack of making one feel like they’ve known her forever. Even from the first paragraph, the author invites you in, offers you a warm drink and a seat by the fireplace while she cooks up her lyrical stew. The words fill the body and soothe the spirit like a lullaby, making one wistful of days long past before drifting off into a sound slumber.
“Going home” is a yearning that starts at birth and continues throughout life. Sadly, it is both a metaphysical and metaphorical impracticability. It’s clear from her work that Rebecca Murray understands this well. So in lieu of the reader’s inability to go home, the author does the next best thing: she brings home to the reader.