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I’m not entirely sure how much of what we see in Black Swan actually exists beyond the fevered imagination of the protagonist. And that perilous hold on reality is far from the only thing to love about this gorgeously horrific nightmare.
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.
Sanctum is extreme people in extreme danger in an extreme place. In 3D! The good kind of 3D. And both Ioan Gruffudd and Richard Roxburgh take their shirts off. What, you need Shakespeare, too, on top of all that?
This rare misfire from director Michael Winterbottom is extra disturbing because while it appears shockingly senseless, senseless is not what Winterbottom does…
There’s solid workmanship and an authentic emotional muscle in this movie. I was startled to find myself overwhelmed, eventually, by its ragged charms and its rough-edged vision of female power and pain.
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.
“Sunny with a chance of creatures” could well be the weather report from this world, one not too far removed from our own, in one of the most startling movies of our new DIY filmmaking culture.
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.
Maybe the romantic comedy about a couple of sociopaths is where the Hollywood expression of the genre has been heading all along, since such films of recent vintage have been populated by unpleasant people doing unpleasant things in the hopes that we will be somehow charmed by them. Perhaps it was only a matter of time before pathological charm was deployed.
Oh, cheese, glorious cheese! Christina Aguilera gets off a bus from Iowa in Los Angeles with nothing but a coupla bucks in her pocket and aspirations of stardom. As a dancer. Or maybe a singer. But something flashy, anyway: it’s L.A., after all!
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