Salt (review)
*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.
*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.
Sort of a Xerox copy of the 1987 *Predator,* with the only point perhaps establishing Adrien Brody’s action creds, in case that Oscar for *The Pianist* starts holding him back from getting good work.
Shyamalan wanted to leave us shaking our heads and marveling at a terribleness that was not merely terrible, but a terribleness that leaves you astonished at just how very, very terrible it is.
Made of spoilers. Don’t read until you’ve seen the episode unless you don’t care to have it spoiled for you.
Made of spoilers. Don’t read until you’ve seen the episode.
I saw *Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time*? Why can’t I remember anything about it?
Made of spoilers. Don’t read until you’ve seen the episode.
How can it be that my geeky little heart has been ripped from my chest and my geeky little soul crushed underfoot like so much spilled popcorn on the floor of the multiplex? That wasn’t supposed to happen. Russell Crowe and Ridley Scott’s *Robin Hood* was supposed to be *awesome.*
This is the metric by which I ended up measuring *Iron Man 2*: By the time it was over, did I actually *want* to see it again this weekend with my geek gang? And the answer ended up being Yes…
A wickedly wonderful little smashup of fluff…