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If you’re gonna do a WB-esque royal-wedding cash-in movie, you have to give it a fair shot. Where is the dream sequence? I fully expected to see Kate go all Buffy on some shuffling hoards of zombie paparazzi. But it’s nowhere to be found in William & Kate. How mysterious.
I knew it! I knew Kenneth Branagh was a geek. Oh, sure, he got famous for all that snooty Shakespeare stuff, but deep down, he’s mad for comic books and superheroes and all that pulp-fiction stuff. He’s a dork.
What could possibly be offensive about artist-filmmaker Julian Schnabel taking on an underdog tale and imbuing it with his usual warm, empathetic, humanist touch? Ah, here is Schnabel’s mistake: his story is about a Palestinian girl, and he fails to give equal time to the Israeli side of the story, an unforgivable transgression in the eyes of many. That said…
It must have been a fine time, back in the early 80s, when Ronald Reagan was only just embarking on his diabolical plan to kill the American middle class: we could still find carefree, spoiled-rotten billionaires kooky and captivating…
I’ve gotten behind most of the Fast & Furious movies because they’ve been packed with thrillingly staged action and peopled with protagonists who walk that bad-boy line cagily enough to make rooting for them a guilty pleasure, but a pleasure nonetheless. But something is off in Fast Five. There’s something deeply unpleasant about this latest flick that prevented me from enjoying all the stuff blowing up real good.
You wanna know who the killer is? I’ll tell you who the killer is. In fact, there’s two killers: that’s the twist. Director Wes Craven and screenwriter Kevin Williamson worked in tandem here to murder the horror comedy… or at least their own franchise. Not that it wasn’t dead already.
A tire develops sentience. And independent mobility. Be afraid. Because it can also kill you with its mind. Yes, it has a mind. And it enjoys killing you with its mind. Be also amused, in a deeply weird, weirdly deep sort of way…
Hilarious true story. You’ll love this. In the 20th century, up until as late as 1970, thousands and thousands and thousands of British children were forcibly deported to Australia, where they were herded into group homes or other institutions, treated like slave labor, and subject to regular physical and sexual abuse on top of the emotional abuse of being ripped from their families, their homes, their country.
It’s one thing to say that Hollywood scoops up indie filmmakers, chews them up, and spits out McG and Brett Ratner clones, which absolutely happens. But that’s on a whole ’nother level to what it has done to David Gordon Green. Someone took the most glorious bottle of vintage champagne and whipped up Tang mimosas.
So tediously familiar that I could barely remember most of it after I left the cinema. I’m exaggerating just a tad, but even if I didn’t remember it, I could have told you what it was about anyway, because it deviates not one whit from the formula that we’ve come to understand is somehow “essential” for “family” movies…
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