For a few days after Palm Springs and L.A., where we finally saw Saving Mr. Banks, because movies about aging Engish women writers must be supported, and American Hustle, which is as brilliant as critics say (17 gave it a perfect 100 on Metacritic), though the Studio 54-ish scene is strangely degayed. Among the huge afros and open polyester shirts, it needed a some fabulous gays to cinch its 1978 groove.
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