Valentine’s Day (review)
It’s like being force-fed, all in one sitting, an entire box of cheap-shit heart-shaped chocolates from the dollar store.
It’s like being force-fed, all in one sitting, an entire box of cheap-shit heart-shaped chocolates from the dollar store.
The metallic tang of blood is all over the elegant facade of this mysteriously disappointing, dispassionately underpowered story of a British aristocrat who dances with the devil, in the form of a werewolf curse, in the pale moonlight.
So it can be told: The road to hell isn’t paved with good intentions, it’s paved with Harry Potter wannabes. Now, now — I know that’s not quite fair to anyone involved with this perfectly inoffensive, occasionally clever kids’ movie…
Oh, it’s tragic, all right, what happens when lovers get separated by a war whipped up out of political bullshit.
The movie is build from bricks of ridiculous mortared together with the preposterous and painted over with the hugely unlikely. But that don’t mean I didn’t have a blast while I was sitting there in the screening room quaffing it.
Hello, *sigh*! Enough of those “smart” romantic comedies that force down our throats the preposterous notions that women can be competent at work — sorta — without being idiots at everything else, or that men can ever be adults, or that humiliating old ladies and priests isn’t hilarious.
A suprisingly underpowered, plodding police procedural that thinks that holding back on ‘action’ makes it ‘serious’ even in the absence of anything substantial to take its place…
*Extraordinary Measures* is to science what *Erin Brockovich* was to the law.
Forget all that nonsense about fending off evil spirits with Bibles and holy water and garlic or whatever. Automatic weapons is what you need.

Insufficiently advanced magic is indistinguishable from the ruthlessly forced faux charm of a witless, sloppily assembled, lazily crafted movie that believes it can get away with such shoddiness because it’s ‘for kids.’