Safe House [Weston Tells His Girlfriend about His Real Job]
Cast: Ryan Reynolds, Nora Arnezeder
clip from Safe House, directed by Daniel Espinosa, screenplay by David Guggenheim (2012)
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Hesitating Beauty
For your sparkling cocky smile I've walked a million miles
Begging you to come and wed me in the spring
Why do you my dear delay
What makes you laugh and turn away
You're a hesitating beauty, Nora Lee
Well I know that you are itching to get married, Nora Lee
And I know how I'm twitching for the same thing, Nora Lee
By the stars and clouds above we could spend our lives in love
You're a hesitating beauty, Nora Lee
We can build a house and home where the flowers come to bloom
Around our yard I'll nail a fence so high
That the boys with peeping eyes cannot see that angel face
My hesitating beauty Nora Lee
Well I know that you are itching to get married Nora Lee
And I know how I'm twitching for the same thing Nora Lee
By the stars and clouds above we can spend our lives in love
If you quit your hesitating, Nora Lee
We can ramble hand in hand across the grasses of our land
I'll kiss you for each leaf on every tree
We can bring our kids to play where the dry leaves blow today
If you quit your hesitating, Nora Lee
Well I know that you are itching to get married, Nora Lee
And I know how I'm twitching for the same thing, Nora Lee
By the stars and clouds above we could spend our lives in love
If you quit your hesitating, Nora Lee
song performed by Wilco
Added by Lucian Velea
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Lesbia Hath a Beaming Eye
Lesbia hath a beaming eye,
But no one knows for whom it beameth;
Right and left its arrows fly,
But what they aim at no one dreameth.
Sweeter 'tis to gaze upon
My Nora's lid that seldom rises;
Few its looks, but every one,
Like unexpected light, surprises!
Oh, my Nora Creina, dear,
My gentle, bashful Nora Creina,
Beauty lies
In many eyes,
But Love in yours, my Nora Creina.
Lesbia wears a robe of gold,
But all so close the nymph hath laced it,
Not a charm of beauty's mould
Presumes to stay where Nature placed it.
Oh! my Nora's gown for me,
That floats as wild as mountain breezes,
Leaving every beauty free
To sink or swell as Heaven pleases.
Yes, my Nora Creina, dear,
My simple, graceful Nora Creina,
Nature's dress
Is loveliness --
The dress you wear, my Nora Creina.
Lesbia hath a wit refined,
But, when its points are gleaning round us,
Who can tell if they're design'd
To dazzle merely, or to wound us?
Pillow'd on my Nora's heart,
In safer slumber Love reposes --
Bed of peace! whose roughest part
Is but the crumpling of the roses.
Oh! my Nora Creina, dear,
My mild, my artless Nora Creina!
Wit, though bright,
Hath no such light
As warms your eyes, my Nora Creina.
poem by Thomas Moore
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Nora El Nora
Nora El Nora, ne'ezar begvura shuvi elay malki
Dodi refa, nafshi nichsefa, lebeitach malchi
Nora El Nora, ne'ezar begvura
Nora Ashira, Lach akabira, shir mahalali
Lecha etna menat chevly vegoraly
Bekol zman azor el nora, geza avraham, netzer tifa'ara,
Ata el hai noten torah
[Translation:]
Nora El Nora, the lord of courage
Return me my lord, mend my wounds,
my soul is yearning, and in valor we wait.
Nora i sing thee, a hymn of praise,
to you I give my life and faith
Through all time, mighty Nora,
deliver us progeny of Abraham,
Offspring of greantess,
you are the libing God,
giver of Torah
song performed by Orphaned Land
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My Nora
Beneath the gold acacia buds
My gentle Nora sits and broods,
Far, far away in Boston woods
My gentle Nora!
I see the tear-drop in her e'e,
Her bosom's heaving tenderly;
I know—I know she thinks of me,
My Darling Nora!
And where am I? My love, whilst thou
Sitt'st sad beneath the acacia bough,
Where pearl's on neck, and wreath on brow,
I stand, my Nora!
Mid carcanet and coronet,
Where joy-lamps shine and flowers are set—
Where England's chivalry are met,
Behold me, Nora!
In this strange scene of revelry,
Amidst this gorgeous chivalry,
A form I saw was like to thee,
My love—my Nora!
She paused amidst her converse glad;
The lady saw that I was sad,
She pitied the poor lonely lad,—
Dost love her, Nora?
In sooth, she is a lovely dame,
A lip of red, and eye of flame,
And clustering golden locks, the same
As thine, dear Nora?
Her glance is softer than the dawn's,
Her foot is lighter than the fawn's,
Her breast is whiter than the swan's,
Or thine, my Nora!
Oh, gentle breast to pity me!
Oh, lovely Ladye Emily!
Till death—till death I'll think of thee—
Of thee and Nora!
poem by William Makepeace Thackeray
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In Pursuit of the Poetic Soul of Ryan Adams
In Pursuit of the Poetic Soul of Ryan Adams
By Uriah Lee Hamilton
Last day of summer, football Saturday afternoon. A Warm breeze was pushing me toward Ann Arbor like a happy autumn leaf in pursuit of the beautiful poetic soul of Ryan Adams. Lovely charming mood all the way playing Easy Tiger and Demolition and feeling like the universe was kind and smiling.
Exit off 94 West onto State Street and all excited to make my way to Liberty Street and the heart of the College town I love. Kids were milling around everywhere in their gold and blue, gleeful and happy that Michigan is now playing 500 football after a discouraging start. Parking spaces across the street from Michigan Theater in the parking structure are all taken, I have to drive to the roof and still wait for a football fan to leave.
Me and my friend Cassandra start walking around and dig everything and everyone we see. Ann Arbor brings out your gentle Jack Kerouac nature, the part of you that wants to praise everything for it’s sad but beautiful, integral purpose to this existence.
We enter an Eastern clothing and folk art store that is positively charming and enlightening. I can’t remember the name of the store. Perhaps, it is called the Enchanted Sarong. It almost felt like George Harrison was there with us, beautiful carved statues of Buddha and Krishna and Ganesha were everywhere. The sales lady was friendly and helpful and said sweetly, “we’re Om friendly” as we asked about carved symbols for the breath-word Om. The serene incense Nag Champa drifted through the room but it was now time to leave and make our way to the Ryan Adams concert at Michigan Theater.
I purchased my tickets the very minute they went on sale and prayed I had front row despite my tickets saying double A. No Such luck, but I was still happy to be in row 27. As I was waiting for the show to begin, I saw my concert friend Jeremy and got his attention. He looked as happy and as excited as myself and said he had spent a fortune at some cool record store. Jeremy then handed me a beautiful soundboard copy of Ryan Adams at the Gem Theater in downtown Detroit June 20th 2007. Man, how I’ve been longing for that show! I then gave Jeremy a copy of Ryan’s punk rock band the Finger.
Now the lights go out and the music begins. Ryan Opens with Goodnight Rose and closes with Goodnight Hollywood Boulevard. Everything in-between is just magical. The first auspicious sign was that Ryan came out playing guitar! ! In June, he only sang, he didn’t play any instruments, some injury sidelined him. The June Show as a result was more subtle, almost like MTV Unplugged. Subtle but amazing. Last night was more rocking and adventurous with reworked extended arrangements, ala the Grateful Dead. In particular was a long and lovely version of Off Broadway from Easy Tiger. At the completion of Off Broadway, I shouted, “That was gorgeous! ” Of course, I may have added an expletive, all in the interest of ecstatic joy for music.
Ryan told a story during the show about running into a girl on her way to the concert that didn’t recognize him because he dresses like a plumber. My friend after the show said she thought she saw Ryan Adams on the street near the theater. I asked, “Really? ” She said, “I saw someone that looked like a plumber.” I can say, I didn’t see Ryan on the streets anywhere in Ann Arbor yesterday, but I have been known to miss a plumber or two in my day.
The first two songs in the encore made the whole show for me. Ryan came out by himself with an acoustic guitar and sang Call Me On Your Way Back Home. Toward the end of the song, Ryan played harmonica and I screamed like a schoolgirl, pretty much the way I do whenever Bobby Dylan plays harmonica! And if that wasn’t enough to make the end of summer completely magical, Ryan then sat down at the piano and sang Sylvia Plath: Oh my God, the point of tears! I’ve waited six years to hear him sing that song live from the Album Gold. As I told my friend, that was the song that sealed the deal making Ryan Adams my modern hero! If you want to get my attention and loyalty, sing about one of the tragic poets I love.
poem by Uriah Hamilton
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Conroy's Gap
This was the way of it, don't you know --
Ryan was "wanted" for stealing sheep,
And never a trooper, high or low,
Could find him -- catch a weasel asleep!
Till Trooper Scott, from the Stockman's Ford --
A bushman, too, as I've heard them tell --
Chanced to find him drunk as a lord
Round at the Shadow of Death Hotel.
D'you know the place? It's a wayside inn,
A low grog-shanty -- a bushman trap,
Hiding away in its shame and sin
Under the shelter of Conroy's Gap --
Under the shade of that frowning range
The roughest crowd that ever drew breath --
Thieves and rowdies, uncouth and strange,
Were mustered round at the "Shadow of Death".
The trooper knew that his man would slide
Like a dingo pup, if he saw the chance;
And with half a start on the mountain side
Ryan would lead him a merry dance.
Drunk as he was when the trooper came,
to him that did not matter a rap --
Drunk or sober, he was the same,
The boldest rider in Conroy's Gap.
"I want you, Ryan," the trooper said,
"And listen to me, if you dare resist,
So help me heaven, I'll shoot you dead!"
He snapped the steel on his prisoner's wrist,
And Ryan, hearing the handcuffs click,
Recovered his wits as they turned to go,
For fright will sober a man as quick
As all the drugs that the doctors know.
There was a girl in that shanty bar
Went by the name of Kate Carew,
Quiet and shy as the bush girls are,
But ready-witted and plucky, too.
She loved this Ryan, or so they say,
And passing by, while her eyes were dim
With tears, she said in a careless way,
"The Swagman's round in the stable, Jim."
Spoken too low for the trooper's ear,
Why should she care if he heard or not?
Plenty of swagmen far and near --
And yet to Ryan it meant a lot.
That was the name of the grandest horse
In all the district from east to west;
[...] Read more
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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Nora, the Maid of Killarney
Down by the beautiful Lakes of Killarney,
Off times I have met my own dear Barney,
In the sweet summer time of the year,
In the silvery moonlight so clear,
I've rambled with my sweetheart Barney,
Along the green banks of the Lakes of Killarney.
The Lakes of Killarney are most lovely to be seen
In the summer season when nature's face is green,
Especially in the beautiful silvery moonlight,
When its waters do shine like silver bright;
Such was the time when me and my Barney
Went to walk by the purty Lakes of Killarney.
My Barney was beautiful, gallant, and gay,
But, alas, he has left me and gone far away,
To that foreign country called Amerikay;
But when he returns we will get married without delay,
And again we will roam by the Lakes of Killarney,
Me and my sweetheart, charming Barney.
And until he returns I will feel rather sad,
For while walking with Barney I always felt glad;
May God send him home again safe to me,
And he will fill my sad heart with glee,
While we walk by the Lakes of Killarney.
I dreamt one night I was walking with Barney,
Down by the beautiful Lakes of Killarney,
And he said, "Nora, dear Nora, don't fret for me,
For I will soon come home to thee;
And I will build a nice cabin near the Lakes of Killarney,
And Nora will live happy with her own dear Barney."
But, alas, I awoke from my beautiful dream,
For, och, if was a most lovely scene;
But I hope it will happen some unexpected day,
When Barney comes home from Amerikay;
Then Barney will relate his adventures to me,
As we walk by the silvery Lakes of Killarney.
We will ramble among its green trees and green bushes,
And hear the sweet songs of the blackbirds and thrushes,
And gaze on its lovely banks so green,
And its waters glittering like crystal in the moonlight's sheen;
Och! how I long to be walking with Barney,
Along the green banks of the Lakes of Killarney.
Of all the spots in Ireland, Killarney for me,
For 'twas there I first met my dear Barney:
[...] Read more
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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The Ride Of Rody Burke
The heat haze veiled the distant hills, the white clouds floated high,
Drifting in slow content across the blue Australian sky;
And down in Clancy’s paddock there were mirth and laughter gay,
Where the She-Oak Jockey Club were met upon St. Patrick’s day.
There were carts and cars and buggies ranged beneath the spreading trees,
Where country folk for miles around were clustered thick as bees,
Watching the prancing horses pass with keen appraising eyes,
All out to win the Squatters’ Cup, the hundred-guinea prize.
Jim Daintry on The Digger rose; hopes for his mount were high,
A gallant roan with swinging pace, game head and fiery eye,
And Jim’s horse was the favourite, the betting there was keen,
But some were backing Rody Burke upon Dark Rosaleen.
A thing of velvet, fire and steel-a little dark brown mare,
With dainty legs and shoulders slant, lean head and high-bred air,
But knowing backers simply scoffed her chances of the race,
“She’ll never see his heels when once The Digger sets the pace.”
‘Twas just before the starting time that Rody reached the course,
And little Nora Shanahan watched for the dark brown horse,
And sighed to mark the rider’s face was white as if with pain,
Could Rody after all her prayers, be ‘going wild’ again?
How could she know that very morn as Rody cross the yard
The old white draught-horse lumbering by, had lashed out good and hard.
The broken ribs, the searing pain that caught his breath away—
Ah! Naught but Irish pluck and grit brought Rody there that day.
As he and Jim rose side by side, each cast a wistful eye
Where little Nora Shanahan looked on aloof and shy;
And each man thrilled at sight of her, the simple girlish grace,
The little kind brown hands of her, the apple-blossom face.
Rivals were they in sport and love, and yet good friends withal,
Whose true Australian mateship held no feeling mean or small,
And Nora, long her maiden heart had done an angels’ work,
With tears and prayers to save the soul of reckless Rody Burke.
Jim Daintry, manly, straight and true, had spreading acres wide,
And any girl in she-Oak might be proud to be his bride,
But who shall read a woman’s heart, or pierce its hidden screen,
Sweet Nora’s hopes were on the track with Rod and Rosaleen.
They’re off! A rush of flying hoofs, a blur of colours bright –
Tim Clancy’s Skylark in the lead, The Digger well in sight,
Dark Rosaleen leads the bunch behind, nor falters in her stride,
While Rody bears with sobbing breath the torture in his side.
[...] Read more
poem by Alice Guerin Crist
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Nora on the Pavement
As Nora on the pavement
Dances, and she entrances the grey hour
Into the laughing circle of her power,
The magic circle of her glances,
As Nora dances on the midnight pavement;
Petulant and bewildered,
Thronging desires and longing looks recur,
And memorably re-incarnate her,
As I remember that old longing,
A footlight fancy, petulant and bewildered;
There where the ballet circles,
See her, but ah! not free her from the race
Of glittering lines that link and interlace;
This colour now, now that, may be her,
In the bright web of those harmonious circles.
But what are these dance-measures,
Leaping and joyous, keeping time alone
With Life's capricious rhythm, and all her own,
Life's rhythm and hers, long sleeping,
That wakes, and knows not why, in these dance-measures?
It is the very Nora;
Child, and most blithe, and wild as any elf,
And innocently spendthrift of herself,
And guileless and most unbeguiled,
Herself at last, leaps free the very Nora.
It is the soul of Nora,
Living at last, and giving forth to the night,
Bird-like, the burden of its own delight,
All its desire, and all the joy of living,
In that blithe madness of the soul of Nora.
poem by Arthur Symons
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Nora: A Serenade
AH, Nora, my Nora, the light fades away,
While Night like a spirit steals up o'er the hills;
The thrash from his tree where he chanted all day,
No longer his music in ecstasy trills.
Then, Nora, be near me; thy presence doth cheer me,
Thine eye hath a gleam that is truer than gold.
I cannot but love thee; so do not reprove me,
If the strength of my passion should make me too bold.
Nora, pride of my heart,—
Rosy cheeks, cherry lips, sparkling with glee,—
Wake from thy slumbers, wherever thou art;
Wake from thy slumbers to me.
Ah, Nora, my Nora, there's love in the air,—
It stirs in the numbers that thrill in my brain;
Oh, sweet, sweet is love with its mingling of care,
Though joy travels only a step before pain.
Be roused from thy slumbers and list to my numbers;
My heart is poured out in this song unto thee.
Oh, be thou not cruel, thou treasure, thou jewel;
Turn thine ear to my pleading and hearken to me.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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The Irish Convict's Return
Ye mountains and glens of Old Ireland,
I've returned home to ye again;
During my absence from ye
My heart always felt great pain.
Oh, how I long'd to see you dear Nora,
And the old folks at home;
And the beautiful Lakes o' Killarney,
Where we oft together did roam.
Ye beautiful Lakes of Killarney,
Ye are welcome to me again;
I will now reform my character,
And from all bad company refrain.
Oh, how I have long'd to see my old father
And my mother dearer than all;
And my favourite dog Charlie
That wont to come at my call.
Ye green hills and lakes of Old Ireland,
Ye are dearer than life unto me;
Many sleepless nights I have had
Since my banishment from thee.
But to-night I will see the old folks
And my dear Nora too ...
And she and I will get married,
And I'm sure we will never rue.
And we may have plenty of children,
And for them I will work like a man.
And I hope Nora and I will live happy,
And do the best we can.
For my own part, I will never grumble,
But try and be content ...
And walk in the paths of virtue,
And remember my banishment.
And at night at the fireside with Nora,
I will tell her of my limbs being bound,
And all my great hardships endured,
And how I was lash'd like a hound.
And when my story is ended,
Nora will sympathise with her tears,
Which will help to drown my sorrow,
And help me through coming years.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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When Rody Came To Ironbark
When Rody came to Ironbark, there spread a hectic glow
around the little township - a dozen years ago,
and the townsfolk were divided, twixt laughter and dismay
at the roysterin' ways of Rody - the madcap tricks he'd play.
When whisky-primed and mischief bent, he drove in wild career
the parson's sulky hitched behind O'Grady's brindled steer,
and he, and other reckless lads, with laughter, song and joke,
made life on earth a burden for all sober-minded folk.
When Rody came to Ironbark, 'twas fun to watch the girls,
Such sorting out of frills and frocks such pinning up of curls,
there were no 'bob's no 'shingles' then but ringlets floated down,
and the the curling tongs worked overtime, when Rody came to town.
And all the girls in Ironbark for Rody pined and sighed,
save little Nora Shanahan, all scorn and maiden pride,
(Now Rod was like a pine-tree, so straight and slim and tall,
but she was pink and dainty, as an apple-blossom small).
She captured Rody's wilful heart, but though he'd beg and pray,
not one soft word of hope or love would little Nora say;
but - how she prayed for Rody, she stormed high Heaven with tears
for all his sins and follies, his reckless wasted years.
In the little township chapel, when evening lights were faint,
she knelt long hours in silence - a little blue-eyed saint -
While Rody, all unknowing, went on his careless way;
but Heaven always answers when soul's like Nora's pray.
So Rody came to Ironbark proud, prosperous and neat -
a dozen hats are lifted as he drives along the street -
and Nora sits beside him, all calm and matronly;
there are four small folk behind them, and one on Nora's knee
(The boys are both like Rody - so straight and strong and tall-
but the girls are like a cluster of apple-blossoms small),
though the wild lads muse regretfully the good old days upon,
and all the township gossips say 'Another good man gone!'
poem by Alice Guerin Crist
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Valentine's Day
Roses are red
Violet are blue
I love you with all my heart
You are the only one for me
Happy Valentine's Day
Ryan
Every time I see you
You make me glow
I can't live without you because
I see two worlds come together
All our hopes and dreams will finally came true
Happy Valentine's Day
Ryan
You have a cute smile
You're missing piecing of my heart
There is something about you and just way you are
I can't help it to fall in love with you each and every day
I know you will want me to be in your arms forever
Happy Valentine's Day
Ryan
Roses are red
Violet are blue
I love you with all my heart
You are the only one for me
Happy Valentine's Day
Ryan
Please be mine
I would do anything to be with you
Two worlds come together
My heart will finally have the piece it been looking for and is you and noone else
Happy Valentine's Day
Ryan
I got lost in your eyes
Everything about you is special to me
I love you too much
Happy Valentine's Day
Ryan
If heart is all we searching for
Can you ever give me chance to be with you?
I been looking for someone to love
I never make on my own without you here by myside
Happy Valentine's Day
Ryan
poem by Christina Phan
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Safe House
Cast: Denzel Washington, Ryan Reynolds, Robert Patrick, Vera Farmiga, Sam Shepard, Brendan Gleeson, Tanit Phoenix, Liam Cunningham, Joel Kinnaman, Nora Arnezeder
trailer for Safe House, directed by Daniel Espinosa, screenplay by David Guggenheim (2012)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Norra El Norra (Entering The Ark)
Norra El Norra (Entering The Ark)
???? ?? ???? ???? ?????? ???? ??? ????
???? ???, ???? ??????, ????? ????
???? ?? ????, ???? ??????
???? ?????, ?? ??????, ??? ?????
?? ???? ??? ????
???? ??? ???? ?? ????, ??? ?????, ??? ?????,
??? ?? ?? ???? ????
Translation:Nora El Nora, the lord of courage,
Return to me my lord, men my wounds,
my soul is yerning, and in valor we wait.
Nora I sing to thee, hymn of praise,
to you I give my life and faith
Through all time, mighty Nora,
deliver us the progany of abraham,
Offspring of greatness,
you are the living God,
giver of Torah.
song performed by Orphaned Land
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The Rose Of Flora
On Brady's tower there grows a flower,
It is the loveliest flower that blows,—
At Castle Brady there lives a lady,
(And how I love her no one knows);
Her name is Nora, and the goddess Flora
Presents her with this blooming rose.
'O Lady Nora,' says the goddess Flora,
'I've many a rich and bright parterre;
In Brady's towers there's seven more flowers,
But you're the fairest lady there:
Not all the county, nor Ireland's bounty,
Can projuice a treasure that's half so fair!'
What cheek is redder? sure roses fed her!
Her hair is maregolds, and her eye of blew.
Beneath her eyelid, is like the vi'let,
That darkly glistens with gentle jew!
The lily's nature is not surely whiter
Than Nora's neck is,—and her arrums too.
'Come, gentle Nora,' says the goddess Flora,
My dearest creature, take my advice,
There is a poet, full well you know it,
Who spends his lifetime in heavy sighs,—
Young Redmond Barry, 'tis him you'll marry,
If rhyme and raisin you'd choose likewise.'
poem by William Makepeace Thackeray
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Dan And Nora Sullivan
They lived in the cottage by the gate to Tubrid Well the Sullivans Nora and Dan
For at least three score and ten years in time a lengthy span
Till failing health and the wear of age on them both did take toll
And the turning back of the hands of time is beyond human control.
The brother and sister Dan and Nora Sullivan I never more will see
They were claimed by the reaper the one who will claim me
But memories of them till my end with me I will retain
And each time I look back on my past they come to life again
I do recall at Christmas time Nora always remembered me
A greeting card from a dear old friend beyond the northern sea
She outlived Dan by six or seven years and news of her death reduced me to tears
For a mentor and role model of my long gone childhod years.
I knew them in my younger years from the same Townland as I
Two people I looked up to when I was a school going boy,
Dan and Nora Sullivan they could not live with a lie
And it truly could be said of them that they would not harm a fly.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Nora's Vow
Hear what Highland Nora said, -
'The Earlie's son I will not wed,
Should all the race of nature die,
And none be left but he and I.
For all the gold, for all the gear,
And all the lands both far and near,
That ever valour lost o won,
I would not wed the Earlie's son.' -
'A maiden's vows,' old Callum spoke,
'Are lightly made and lightly broke;
The heather on the mountain's height
Begins to bloom in purple light;
The frost-wind soon shall sweep away
That lustre deep from glen and brae;
Yet Nora, ere its bloom be gone,
May blithely wed the Earlie's son.' -
'The swan,' she said, 'the lake's clear breast
May barter for the eagle's nest;
The Awe's fierce stream may backward turn,
Ben-Cruaichan fall, and crush Kilchurn;
Our kilted clans, when blood is high,
Before their foes may turn and fly;
But I, were all these marvels done,
Would never wed the Earlie's son.'
Still in the water-lily's shade
Her wonted nest the wild-swan made;
Ben-Cruaichan stands as fast as ever,
Still downward foams the Awe's fierce river;
To shun the clash of foeman's steel,
No Highland brogue has turn'd the heel;
But Nora's heart is lost and won,
She's wedded to the Earlie's son!
poem by Sir Walter Scott
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The Words
Cast: Bradley Cooper, Dennis Quaid, Olivia Wilde, Zoe Saldana, Jeremy Irons, J.K. Simmons, Ben Barnes, John Hannah, Michael McKean, Ron Rifkin, Nora Arnezeder
trailer for The Words (2012)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Maniac
Cast: Elijah Wood, America Olivo, Nora Arnezeder, Liane Balaban, Sammi Rotibi, Megan Duffy, Brian Ames, Genevieve Alexandra
trailer for Maniac, directed by Franck Khalfoun (2012)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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