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This documentary look at a year in the life of the 75-year-old comedienne is a sad, startling exploration of the vagaries of fame, the insecurities of celebrity, and the realities behind the typical “but it’s just a joke” excuses that prop up cheap, vulgar humor.
If you’ve been possessed of a burning desire to behold Jack Black’s belly flab in 3D, then I am delighted to announce that your moment has arrived. What’s that? You say it’s Black’s buttcrack you crave the sight of, rendered in three glorious dimensions? This, my friend, is your lucky day.
It mystifies me as I try to fathom just what the hell an actor with the stature of Robert DeNiro is doing in a movie that finds the height of its humor in a child’s projectile vomiting and four-hour boners.
There’s a sense of something great just beyond the grasp of the Coen Brothers, something that they may not even be aware of, hanging over this elegant yet somehow vaguely unfinished film.
I’d really like to give writer-director James L. Brooks the benefit of the doubt here, because I think — as I usually don’t about asinine romantic comedies — that he means well. He simply doesn’t seem to realize that pathologically messed up characters are neither cute nor charming.
Who knew the Hollywood Foreign Press Association had such a sense of humor? A nomination for Best Motion Picture, Musical or Comedy, for The Tourist? Unless… No… They can’t mean “Inadvertent Comedy,” can they?
This totally superfluous and eminently forgettable sequel to the groundbreaking 1982 flick Tron will make a bloody fortune, not because it embodies any qualities deserving of such, but out of compelling nostalgia and, well, not much else.
You simply need to see this to believe that anyone would conceive of such an outlandishly demented Christmas fantasy. In playing with the creepy roots of the story of Santa, Rare Exports finds the grim awfulness in the supposedly pleasant fantasy…
“Sunny with a chance of creatures” could well be the weather report from this world, one not too far removed from our own, in one of the most startling movies of our new DIY filmmaking culture.
Tough, smart, and competent, yet also wounded and searching: that Lisbeth Salander remains the riveting centerpiece of the two films that follow on from The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, but, alas, her continuing story has been winnowed down in a way that makes it — and her — feel smaller than before.
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