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It keeps us on our intellectual and emotional toes as it blithely bounces us around thorny philosophical koans and lets us peek behind the scenes of the universe at the charming puppetmasters who pull the strings. But for the heaviness of the film’s metaphysics, there is something ineffably light and charming about it. If Frank Capra made The Matrix, it would be The Adjustment Bureau.
How can it be that a kiddie movie is wiser and funnier and more relevant than the Coens Brothers’ True Grit? This is, in fact, what a Coens’ animated flick might look like and sound like, if they got an assist from Terry Giliam: this is a deeply weird and deeply demented movie, and thrillingly so.
I’d like to call Drive Angry Ghost Rider 2: Ghost Driver, except that a sequel to Cage’s previous awful example of cinematic demonic road rage is, in fact, already in production, for our sins. I might better call it Con Air Goes to Hell, because of the beautiful — and by beautiful, I mean, of course, vile and reprehensible — way it picks up the gauntlet thrown down by that violently misogynist film and slaps that gauntlet right at the viewer. In 3D!
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.
The ambiguity of it all is at least as frustrating as it is intriguing, but director Brad Anderson whips it into something gorgeously terrifying, creating a sense of menace out of shadow and darkness the likes of which I’m not sure I’ve ever seen on film before.
It’s garden gnomes… in love… even though they’re supposed to hate each other! It’s funny cuz they’re plaster lawn decorations and say things like “Let’s kick some grass!” and have a plastic pink flamingo pal with a funny generic South American accent who gives them wise advice about romance.
I had no idea colon cancer was so much fun! You get to lose weight… without even trying! You get to giggle your way through your first exam with your doctor: mostly cuz you’re ticklish, but also, he’s just really really cute, with a foreign accent and everything! It is so fantastic to be dying! Call it the Ass Cancer Life Plan. Every modern girl needs it.
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.
He doesn’t exactly kick ass: he is an ass. Life as a masked crime fighter with some slick wheels to groove him around town is not the chick magnet he imagined it would be…
The screenplay is like a transcription of a Dungeons and Dragons session: better hope you make a high saving throw during the wolf attack in Wormwood Forest! The “performances” are like clueless imitations of Monty Python by actors who don’t understand comedy. And those are its good points.
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