Thanks to Peter Chattaway for catching this blog entry by Karina at Spoutblog:

Two weeks ago, The Assassination of Jesse James By The Coward Robert Ford was the film Warner Brothers had “no idea what to do with.” As of this writing, it’s the most gushed-over title at the Toronto Film Festival, and word has hit the wires that star Brad Pitt has won the Best Actor prize at the Venice Film Festival. If the folks at WB still havn’t figured out what to do with Andrew Dominik’s masterful, Malickean tragedy of celebrity envy, they probably don’t deserve to have their name on it. . . .

In other words, Jesse James looks like a painting and plays like an epic novel. There are immediate pleasures to be found in the cinematography and Nick Cave and Warren Ellis’ eerie score, and in the sexy, comic subplot touched off by a character named Dick Liddil’s inability to keep his namesake in his pants. But otherwise, it’s likely the most “difficult” film produced with Hollywood money and starring an A-list star since Eyes Wide Shut. It demands repeat viewings, and as such, it’ll either be a massive commercial failure, or it’ll touch off a new wave of American cinephilia. I guess it’s clear which option I’m rooting for.