Photo Illustration by Thomas Levinson/The Daily Beast/VerticalGiven that the title card of She Came to Me is drenched in bubbling red liquid, one might think that the latest film from writer-director Rebecca Miller (in theaters Oct. 6) would be a merlot-soaked romantic dramedy. It turns out that the film is more red herring than red wine, using its cast of beloved, seasoned actors as little more than pawns to attract an audience to a movie wholly undeserving of their charm and talents. Even the
Writer/director Rebecca Miller somehow manages to make heightened characters feel authentic in She Came to Me, continuing to show her increasing comfort with warmth and humor.
It was 21 years ago that I went to the then-new Magnolia Theater in Dallas and saw Personal Velocity. An anthology film with three separate stories featuring deftly sketched portraits of women in tight spots, it didn’t have a bad section and had one piercing one (the one with Fairuza Balk encountering a boy who’s