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How did anyone dare to do this? How did anyone think they would get away with it? Most audacious of all, perhaps: Did anyone have any notion that such a recklessly bold premise for a film would possibly succeed this well?
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.
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.
I was certain that there was no movie that I could not endure if it meant I could gaze at George Clooney for two hours. I was wrong.
It’s absolutely worth seeing… if only for the intriguing debate to be had afterward, if it wouldn’t be an even stronger film were the last five minutes or so to be chopped off.
This is what I am profoundly grateful for: Roman Polanski’s elegant, gripping thriller The Ghost Writer is not about teenaged girls, not in any way at all.
This year’s Oscar winner for Best Foreign Language Film is a seductive film noir, a lonely love story, a cautionary tale about taking a quest for justice too far, and more…
Ever since he was a kid, Jack Harris never wanted to be a pornographer…
*Salt* works. As in breathless-nonstop–action-intensity works. Oh, sure, it’s nutty-as-a-fruitcake insane at the same time, but being this hugely entertaining goes a long way toward making you not want to laugh at it.
Someday, Rockwell will get his Oscar due, I have no doubt. But I bet that when that day comes, lots of movie lovers will look back and say, “But it should have happened for Moon.”
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