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Lunkhead Channing Tatum as a soldier in Roman-era Britain? Must be processed Hollywood cheese, and hence hootingly entertaining, right? But Tatum acquits himself admirably here, in a film that clearly intends to ensure Hollywood cheese is the last thing that comes to mind…
Josh Lucas and Matthew McConaughey have never actually appeared onscreen together before. It had been entirely possible, up till this moment, that they were the same person, in a Jekyll-and-Hyde sort of way. Would this be how the universe ends, with parallel-universe versions of the same actor causing all of infinity to collapse into some hellish singularity?
It’s total utter complete fantasy of the best stripe, and just the kind that plugs into an ambitious but procrastinating brain. What if I could write my novel and make a million on the stock market and learn Japanese without even breaking a sweat? What else would I do? The what-if, as it turns out, is not all that, so much.
High school is hard. High school is even harder when you’re a secret alien from another planet in hiding from big scary guys with enormous feet and weird tattoos on their bald heads who are after you for reasons no one really understands. Except maybe that you’re the last of your kind. Well, apart from your alien-warrior protector, who isn’t specially numbered like you are.
Call this a thriller of emotional suspense, and one that’s wickedly unsettling, in which we’re never sure who’s feeling what, or why, or to what extremes they’re capable of going.
Bad Santa writers Glenn Ficarra and John Requa graduate to writer-directors here, and give us a warmly human and hugely funny story that’s almost a sendup of both prison melodramas and hetero romantic comedies… yet is also a truly amorous and very satisfying tale about the extremes to which a man will go for love.
This rare misfire from director Michael Winterbottom is extra disturbing because while it appears shockingly senseless, senseless is not what Winterbottom does…
If you’ve been possessed of a burning desire to behold Jack Black’s belly flab in 3D, then I am delighted to announce that your moment has arrived. What’s that? You say it’s Black’s buttcrack you crave the sight of, rendered in three glorious dimensions? This, my friend, is your lucky day.
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.
Tough, smart, and competent, yet also wounded and searching: that Lisbeth Salander remains the riveting centerpiece of the two films that follow on from The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, but, alas, her continuing story has been winnowed down in a way that makes it — and her — feel smaller than before.
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