When the filmmakers focus on the artists who work there, it is moving and engaging. Despite how fun it is to see your favorite musicians in everyday life, there is not much they say that is interesting.
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Nothing much happens in this pleasantly casual 80-minute conversation of a documentary. It doesn’t come to you; you must come to it – like a Jim Jarmusch film, particularly his "Coffee and Cigarettes" from 2003.
The film celebrates the thingness of things, as well as the assuring clarity and lucidity that can arise from devotion to knowledge.
It’s a love letter — to New York, to the bohemians and musicians who still live there come hell or high water, to the art of crafting a damn fine customized Stratocaster, to taking pride in your work, to shooting the shit and most importantly, to finding a place for fellow freaks and misfits to call home.
In a film full of pleasant harmonies, a note of dread comes in.
The doc's a delight for six-string gearheads and a reverie for those who still treasure what remains of pre-Bloomberg, pre-Giuliani New York.
Mann’s laidback, dramatized-reality approach to the subject is to treat Carmine Street Guitars, at 42 Carmine Street, as a village general store from another era, a place for friendly gossip and home-made goods.
Carmine Street Guitars is a one-of-a-kind documentary that exudes a gentle, homespun magic.
The eccentric, serene, almost poetic documentary about Kelly, his business, his protege guitar builder/decorator, the former art student Cindy Hulej.
The rhythm is slow. You really get the sense that when you walk through the doors of Carmine Street Guitars, you step outside of time.