True Grit (review)
There’s a sense of something great just beyond the grasp of the Coen Brothers, something that they may not even be aware of, hanging over this elegant yet somehow vaguely unfinished film.
There’s a sense of something great just beyond the grasp of the Coen Brothers, something that they may not even be aware of, hanging over this elegant yet somehow vaguely unfinished film.
I never put too much stock in the awards given by any organization, least of all the Hollywood Foreign Press Association, which awards the Golden Globes, but it looks like we have even less reason to trust those particular ‘honors’ this year…
I was just at the point, this morning, of confirming my reservation to fly out of New York to London on Tuesday, January 18, when the British Airways Web site crashed — it’s apparently under heavy load from everyone whose travel got disrupted by the snow in England trying to rebook, or get information, or whatever. Gah!
That’s right: more than one. Fannish minds think alike, I guess.
To escape the hell that is the Twilight movies, poor Robert Pattinson has run away to join the circus.
My request: An across-the-board, industrywide contractual obligation that if a movie isn’t awesome, it doesn’t get released.
There’s more genuine emotion in Yogi’s and Boo Boo’s faces here, in this three-minute parody, than I imagine is in all of the actual film, which I have excused myself from seeing in order to save my sanity.
Plus, tons more on Wikileaks, including Julian Assange’s manifesto…
You remember Gamera — you saw him once in a while on MST3K. He’s the cheap knockoff Godzilla, a giant nukular mutantized prehistoric turtle who started out, in the early 1960s, as a monster who destroys cities but rapidly morphed into a defender of Japan and a friend to children.
RIP Blake Edwards (1922–2010).