The Woman (review)
A film that gnaws at our notions of what’s proper and what’s improper, dredging up unexpected horrors from the most banal of ordinariness.
A film that gnaws at our notions of what’s proper and what’s improper, dredging up unexpected horrors from the most banal of ordinariness.
A soulless CGI-animated remake of Raiders of the Lost Ark. Without a Harrison Ford to smirk and snark his way through it, natch.
Crams the “quirky” back into the please-god-kill-me-and-save-me-from-yet-another-ridiculous-teen-romance.
It is leaden where it should be light. It is graceless and charmless. It reels from the painful banter. It is the epitome of empty soulless corporate filmmaking.
However crass Disney’s motivation may have been in rereleasing the film, it’s cheering to see that even in this era of awesome home-entertainment setups and increasingly unpleasant multiplexes, people still want to see great movies on a big screen with big sound…
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.

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…
Incontinence — as the result of either as-yet untrained bowels or a terrible adult affliction — is presumed to be a major concern for the viewer here.