reviews

‘I don’t know what it is about you, but the more you talk, the more you give me the willies.’ So says one of the James gang to Robert Ford, whose syrupy-sweet quality we recognize today as the unctuousness of a stalker…

I should have walked out at the ‘comical’ dog-sex scene. Instead I endured until Martin Lawrence got skunked in the face — that should have made me happy, and yet I felt dirty all over, and had to escape.

And then there are movies, like *Fool’s Gold,* in which absolutely *everything* goes wrong. In which not one single element works… in which not one single element seems even calculated to have worked in the first place.

We forget that it’s a job. We go see people in movies or in concert or we stay at home and watch them on TV and they make us laugh or they make us cry or they make us dance and when they’re good they make it look so effortless… but it’s a job.

Sydney Wells sees dead people. I see a dead movie. I’m not sure which of us got the better deal.

The only explanation is this: They — the big Hollywood They who dominate our mass entertainment — are now actively making movies for the Stupid demographic.