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It is a strange and curious thing that director Matt Reeves chose to follow up his uniquely distinctive Cloverfield with a film that is, if not precisely a shot for shot remake of the Swedish-language Let the Right One In, then at least a tonal copy.
The Social Network isn’t overly concerned with the obvious irony: ha ha, an antisocial nerd invented the most popular social-networking Web site on the planet. As Fincher frames it, Zuckerberg’s loneliness is hardly ironic. It is, in fact, inherent in the mindset that got him to where he is…
There’s an appealing sort of crazy, on the surface, to Freakonomics — the theory, the book, and now the documentary. But it seems for all the world as if Freakonomics the movie is mocking Freakonomics the theory. Did they mean to do that?
I come to you with all honest sincerity and humility to say that I cannot, for the life of me, tell you what the hell this damn movie is about.
He is Jack’s self-conscious heart. The title, you see, is a metaphor, for oddball Jack deciding it’s time to open up and experience something of the world, such as learning to swim and going on dates.
This breezy but slight French rom-com so perfectly apes Hollywood’s output in the genre that I have no doubt that at this very moment, an English-language studio remake is being plotted… one that will remove even the small charms that make it worth a look.
It’s sort of adorable and sort of terrifying to look at Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps and see the ultimate 80s icon of sharky, sociopathic greed — Gordon Gekko — reduced to an object of quaint amusement, for both the characters onscreen and for us in the viewing audience.
If the grownup fimmakers have learned to move past the adolescent notion that girls and women are either virgins or whores and nothing in between, they nobly step aside to let Zack and Matt’s ideas about the male ownership of women — and the sullying of women that thereby occurs — dictate the course of the film.
Ever drop your toast and despair to watch it land on the floor jelly side down? You know who’s responsible for such calamity, don’t you? Satan. It’s true.
The secret is out: Hollywood knows how to make movies about authentic female human beings. It just chooses not to do so 97 percent of the time.
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