War (review)
*War* denies us the simple, brainless pleasure of watching these two guys get Oriental on each other’s asses. It’s like someone made *Gamera vs. Mothra* and, oops, forgot to give us two guys in rubber suits battling to the death.
*War* denies us the simple, brainless pleasure of watching these two guys get Oriental on each other’s asses. It’s like someone made *Gamera vs. Mothra* and, oops, forgot to give us two guys in rubber suits battling to the death.
Can you say “overwrought,” boys and girls? I knew you could.
A charming and shrewd coming-of-age tale…
Anyone who thinks that Shakespeare is a chore to be suffered needs to see how fresh and refreshing and sweet and enlightening and simply pleasant his wicked-sharp words can be.
It’s not exactly the stuff that feel-good movies are made of — it’s the stuff that hey-chew-on-*this* movies are made of.

This is one of the funniest movies I’ve ever seen, and that’s not something I say lightly. It’s practically Shakespearean in its exquisite foolishness and comedic intrigue.
Out of the depths of the cheesy cinematic realms of the 1960s comes the, ahem, “real” backstory of King Arthur and his legendary sword, Excalibur.
This is why Hollywood mostly sucks: Corporate movies are getting made from scripts written by 13-year-olds who went on to drop out of high school.
“I’m so afraid I’m gonna fall asleep,” Nicole Kidman says, as if she were reading my mind, for I was thinking at that exact moment, “I think this movie is gonna put me to sleep.” Weird, huh?
This ain’t bread-and-circuses infotainment intended to distract us from the very real, very dangerous problems we face as a society. It’s exactly the opposite, and absolutely terrifying. “Not only is it the 11th hour,” states one of the numerous and impressively credential experts here, “it’s 11:59 and 59 seconds.”