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It’s a box. A cardboard box. Frank Langella brings it to your door, and inside is the Pop-o-matic of Death, and you either push the big red button under the plastic dome, in which case someone you don’t know dies and you get a cool million in a briefcase, or you don’t, in which you don’t get a movie made about you. Resisting the Moral Dilemma? No movie for you!
Richard Curtis appears to have nothing at all to say *about anything at all* in this mess of a misbegotten would-be comedy.
I’m not sure if I’ve seen a more sublimely funny moment on screen this year than the one in which George Clooney, in all deep serious earnestness, tries to convince Ewan McGregor that he — McGregor, that is — is a Jedi warrior.
Robert Zemeckis appears to have given up making fantasies for grownups in favor of making theme-park attractions designed to do nothing more than shut the kiddies up for 90 minutes, if they can sit still for that long for the dazzling…
There is no ‘archival footage’ of these sessions upon which *The Fourth Kind* was based. None of the ‘archival footage’ we see here, as terrifyingly plausible as it is, is real. Seriously. I promise you.
Audrey Tautou looks *amazing,* surrounded by women who flounce around like fluffy Edwardian fruit cups. But moments like that — in which you really feel the impact of Chanel’s legacy — are, *tant pis,* all too rare…
It’s too bad that writer-director Katherine Dieckmann couldn’t imbue her portrait of the titular state with as much easy, authentic panache as she does her setting.
Riotously awful and simultaneously vile, this orgy of sexualize violence with no point except to give itself something to jerk off to…
Rewinding to 15th century Thailand, this is the downright Dickensian tale of a royal boy kidnapped by slavers and raised by thieves who grows into a man who vows revenge on everyone who’s wronged him.
In the Year of the Gloved One 50, which was also called in the old calendar 2009, the people of the town of London came unto Michael with much wailing and despair. “Michael!” they beseeched Him. “Bestow upon us Your awesomeness. Bestow upon us the wisdom of Your spirit, and telleth us once again how Billie Jean is not Your lover and the kid is not Your son, for we long to be reassured. Giveth unto us 50 shows, one for each year of Your beneficence.”
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