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There’s tons of delicious suspense of the horror-flick variety to be had in writer-director André Øvredal’s mockumentary, and plenty of Spielbergian shock-awe, but what makes it one of the most satisfying examples of found-footage flicks yet is its observational, journalistic ethos.
Colombiana fofana, Zoe Saldana banana. C’mon, sing it with me! C’mon! It makes more sense than the movie, and it’s more entertaining to boot.
It’s a rare thing, but sometimes digging up the past and giving it another spin is a good thing.
Born on a battlefield! Blood blood blood! Bone crunching! Burn burn burn! In 3D!
There is a conspiracy theory that I’m starting right now that one day back in 1987, as he was driving in the desert outside Austin, Robert Rodriguez was abducted by aliens…
Holy shit, Indiana Jones and James Bond are fighting frickin’ aliens. This is a geekgasm. Or it should be. But it isn’t.
Take that, Spielberg, with your suburban alien invasions and your gentle parables about acceptance and stuff. Why don’t the aliens ever land in the ’hood, where no one will take their shit sitting down?
Jokiness and hokeyness have been genetically engineered away, leaving something pure and sweet and poignant, a throwback to late-60s/early-70s humanist science fiction. More Charly than Heston.
It’s now a tossup whether the best comic-book superhero movie of 2011 is X-Men: First Class or Captain America: First Avenger… But I’m leaning toward Captain America.
Those clever sneaky Pixar folks are warning us that if we Americans don’t clean house, we’re going to bring the whole world down with us, and the entirety of human civilization will collapse into a nasty soup of irrationality and ignorance.
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