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Welcome to the ritual humiliation of Robert Downey Jr. Gotta wonder if the dude simply is a masochist who enjoys looking deeply embarrassed onscreen or if someone has some serious dirt on him — worse than the stuff we already know about him, that is. Or maybe he’s just a whore who will do anything for the $12 million he reportedly received for this film…
Oh, we already know how it ends! John Lennon starts a band and ends up bigger than God. Before that, though… whew. There’s a whole lotta psychosexual stuff packed into Nowhere Boy, the tale of Lennon’s adolescence in Liverpool, which may or may not be true, but it sure makes for a smashing film.
I like superhero stories that play with the tropes… and if such a story can take us to new places within a genre that seems like it must be totally played out by now, even better still. It turns out that Megamind is, in fact, just that kind of movie.
Indie filmmaker Tyler Perry has spun an unlikely career out of catering to underserved black audiences by giving them excruciatingly unwatchable minstrel-show movies. Now, finally, Perry has made a film that doesn’t pander, that has something meaningful to say — something actually worth hearing…
Kristen Stewart is a New Orleans stripper and prostitute. She does not have a heart of gold. That belongs to James Gandolfini…
I suppose there’s a sort of cleverness in the direction Paranormal Activity 2 decided to take. Sequels are typically about one-upping their progenitor films by being bigger, faster, louder, more-er of everything. But the filmmakers went in the other direction: They aped the look and feel of Paranormal Activity but made everything else smaller and lesser. It’s a bold choice, if an odd one. And almost entirely predictably, it utterly fails to pay off.
I sincerely cannot help but worry, with no snarkiness intended whatsoever, whether Clint Eastwood has gone senile. He is 80, after all. I hope this not the case, of course, and I certainly don’t wish it on the guy, but I can’t imagine what else explains this utterly baffling film.
‘I wanna kill myself,’ Craig tells the triage nurse. ‘Fill this out,’ she tells him boredly, handing him some paperwork. Yet the film steadfastly refuses to go anywhere near cultural criticism of how we now turn ordinary frustrations and disappointments into medical diagnoses…
It starts out all sad music at momma’s funeral and we gots to sell the horse farm, but dang if nobody can keep Diane Lane down.
Once upon a time, a film this epic, this relevant, this emotional would have been celebrated as a great entertainment and important storytelling with something vital to say about the world today.
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