Crank (review)
Is it possible that a movie so utterly without redemptive value, so completely, pointlessly uncalled for, can also be, you know, kinda fun?
Is it possible that a movie so utterly without redemptive value, so completely, pointlessly uncalled for, can also be, you know, kinda fun?
Cuthbert picked a poor film to get behind as star and producer: it mistakes luridness for tragedy and monotony for sophistication.
The British accents may lend a touch of Benny Hill randiness… but the feeling that we’ve seen this all before would be inescapable anyway.
Guys who know what they’re talking about, fan-wise, check in on my new book.
But I’ll catch up on new flicks anyway…