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I’m almost entirely sure that no one who has not read The Deathly Hallows will be able to grasp what’s going on. The film is damn nigh impenetrable without the background of the novel, and all the previous novels in the series. It was almost impenetrable to me, who has read all the books, at least on an emotional level.
I suppose there’s a sort of cleverness in the direction Paranormal Activity 2 decided to take. Sequels are typically about one-upping their progenitor films by being bigger, faster, louder, more-er of everything. But the filmmakers went in the other direction: They aped the look and feel of Paranormal Activity but made everything else smaller and lesser. It’s a bold choice, if an odd one. And almost entirely predictably, it utterly fails to pay off.
It’s weird to look back at ‘Genesis of Daleks’ now and know that the first time I saw this — it would have been back in the early 1980s — I had no idea what the hell a Dalek was.
James Franco’s elucidation of Allen Ginsberg is soaring in its warmth and sincerity. The words are (mostly) the writer’s, but the vitality and the passion are all Franco’s: he makes the poet breathe for us today in a way that feels entirely modern and relevant.
Looks like you may have missed your chance to see Hatchet II on a big screen, because the film has been pulled from theaters. Not that it matters, really, because this is such a spurious waste of time that no one should have to bother with it at all.
How sad is it when a horror movie appears to be aiming for overwrought and still ends up underbaked? This overly familiar, wholly unoriginal would-be psychological thriller provokes few reactions outside of boredom and — in, sadly, too few moments — derisive laughter.
It is a strange and curious thing that director Matt Reeves chose to follow up his uniquely distinctive Cloverfield with a film that is, if not precisely a shot for shot remake of the Swedish-language Let the Right One In, then at least a tonal copy.
Writer-director Adam Green has been hailed as the future of horror: The future of horror is the past of horror, apparently.
Ever drop your toast and despair to watch it land on the floor jelly side down? You know who’s responsible for such calamity, don’t you? Satan. It’s true.
Paul W.S. Anderson loves him some style without style, texture without substance: this is all white noise, visual static to make the movie pop more in 3D.
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