Melancholia (review)
Depression is like an enormous rogue planet entering your solar system and ripping your world apart…
Depression is like an enormous rogue planet entering your solar system and ripping your world apart…

For a film critic, there are few pleasures more satisfying than ripping into a bad movie. But one of those few is discovering that a film that you were expecting to hate — a movie that you had no doubts whatsoever would turn out to be utterly awful — turns out to be wonderful.

How is it possible that no one has done anything quite like this before? This is one of the funniest things I have ever seen, a clever, witty, surprising splatter comedy…
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 more mature love story, one about what it takes to maintain a relationship after that first blush of love and that first rush of hormones, and the stupid mistakes that can threaten it.
I’m starting to worry that Andrew Niccol has already said, with Gattaca and The Truman Show, all he has to say.
A tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing. It is a fusty nut with no kernel. It speaks an infinite deal of nothing.
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.

Ohmygod the germs, the germs! They’re everywhere!