Mr Silencio. To begin with, I think your interest in this director's films is serious and genuine enough to warrant you buying yourself a ticket to see his new film. Your view is that he has potential to become a better director than his films thus far show him to be. You don't deny that his films thus far have left something to be desired, you point to thier imperfections but you are aware merit-worthy aspects as well.
Now here is the point I wanted to make after scanning through these posts - if you held these opinions at the time you watched the Village and since then he has directed the Inside Man, then you were quite right about this director. I mean he is at least better than the film the Village showed him to be, because the Inside Man is clearly a better film. It is immaterial whether others think either of these films or any other film he has directed is any good or worth seeing, I suspect you'll find that most agree that this is true. The real question is this, is the Inside Man the extent of this director's potential? All the same, if the Inside Man is the extent of the director's potential and his new movie, therefore, cannot be any better, is that a reason not to see the his new film?
On the other hand, if you reckon that he hasn't yet reached his full potential - it sounds to me like you think he hasn't - then may be you should be asking people whether Lady in the water is better or at least as good as the best of this director's films so far - avoiding any value judgement of his films - just comparing and weighing which has more merit. That way you might avoid the opinions of those who make it a rule not to like this director. You might elicit more objective responses to your question.
Anyway, I haven't seen this director's latest but if he did Inside Man (I didn't realise he directed that) then I reckon hazard a guess that it'll there will be something about his latest film worth going for.
Beauty is momentary in the mind -
The fitful tracing of a portal;
But in the flesh it is immortal.
The body dies; the body's beauty lives.
So evenings die, in their green going,
A wave, interminably flowing.
So gardens die, their meek breath scenting
the cowl of winter, done repenting.
So maidens die, to the auroral
Celebration of a maiden's choral.
Susanna's music touched the bawdy strings
Of those white elders; but, escaping,
Left only Death's ironic scraping.
Now in its immortality, it plays
On the clear viol of her memory,
And makes a constant sacrement of praise.
('Peter Quince at the Clavier' by Wallace Stevens)
