King Kong (1933/1976) (review)

What with the new DVD release of Merian C. Cooper and Ernest B. Schoedsack’s 1933 *King Kong* and the anticipation over Peter Jackson’s about-to-be-released homage, the eternal question is renewed: Just why the hell did the natives on Skull Island build an anti-Kong wall… and then put a Kong-size door in it?

The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King (review)

The words I keep coming back to, the ones that seem to fit this most astonishing of films best, are ‘terrible’ and ‘awful.’ The old-fashioned senses of the words are what I’m talking about: Peter Jackson has given us a grandly eloquent film that inspires more terror and more awe than anything I’ve seen in a long time. I can compare my reaction to it only with the moviegoing experiences of my childhood, when the hugeness, the all-encompassing-ness of movies in all ways — emotionally, viscerally, visually, aurally — first astounded me, when ‘Night on Bald Mountain’ and Darth Vader’s stormtroopers horrified me to such a degree that I can still feel it.

Jurassic Park III (review)

Isla Sorna has become something of an attractive nuisance these days. Never mind that InGen’s real-life monster island is surrounded by restricted airspace and that travel to it is absolutely forbidden. Never mind that it’s common knowledge that people have been eaten there. Does this stop adventurous types from trying to catch a glimpse of an honest-to-goodness genetically engineered freak dinosaur? Of course not. InGen’s legal budget must require advanced mathematics to grasp.

Cast Away movie review: island boy

I am very happy to report that Cast Away is terrific. And touching and smart and willing to grant the audience a modicum of intelligence. I will never again be able to look at a purple and orange FedEx logo and not think about Tom Hanks and Cast Away. This is an unforgettable film, full of imagery and emotion that lingers, one that far exceeds even the high expectations that accompany it.

Ghostbusters (review)

Would The X-Files exist without 1984’s Ghostbusters? Would Buffy? Would world-weary sarcasm and snarky self-reference ever have reached the level of art form if not for Peter Venkman? The answers, okay, more than likely, are Yes, Yes, and Yes. But they’ll all more fun because Ghostbusters seared its way through our impressionable adolescent brains at just the right time to inflict the most grievous psychological injury.