Paul Blart: Mall Cop (review)
Oh my goodness, it’s a ripoff of *Die Hard.*
Oh my goodness, it’s a ripoff of *Die Hard.*
There’s something to be said for a movie that’s still making you laugh days after you saw it. It’s probably better if that movie was a comedy, but you can’t dismiss the entertainment value you get out of a good bad horror movie that prompts snorts of derision and head shakes of mystified wonderment at random moments a week later.
Guys, if you decide to let yourself get dragged along to *Bride Wars* because you think it means you’re gonna get lucky with the chick as a thank-you, and she likes this movie… run like hell from her. She’s poison, and she’ll make your life a misery.
Just when you think that surely, by now — especially after this year of nonstop Nazi movies! — we’ve heard every story to come out of the Holocaust, along comes yet another new one.
That extreme rarity of American film: a movie that is about a teenage girl’s fumblings through the confusions of early adolescence…
No actor has ever looked less comfortable in a Nazi uniform than Viggo Mortensen does…
Oh my god, it’s finally happened: Someone made *Hey You Kids Get Off My Lawn: The Motion Picture.*
People sitting around looking at books? How does that become cinematic? But this is tougher: a movie about secrets.

It’s about human life with a dog. And it doesn’t have to force any of its sentiment because its emotion springs from an honest assessment of how wonderful, frustrating, and surprising life can be.
So it’s just like this crazy life thing, you know? You’re born, you do some stuff, maybe if you’re lucky you fall in love with the same person who falls in love with you — at the same time that person falls in love with you — and then you die.