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It takes an extraordinary film to turn the notion of woman-as-victim on its head… and an even more extraordinary film if it does posit as its central conceit that its protagonist has unquestionably been victimized.
There is a whole lotta frustration to be found in a movie about a woman forced to play men’s games who doesn’t fight back… not even a little.
Gerard Butler gets Jesus. But not — this is my favorite thing about this movie — in an obnoxious way.
It’s meant to be terribly romantic how theses two sweet guys fall in love over the course of a few days. But something doesn’t feel quite right to me.
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.
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