Extraordinary Measures (review)
*Extraordinary Measures* is to science what *Erin Brockovich* was to the law.
*Extraordinary Measures* is to science what *Erin Brockovich* was to the law.
Forget all that nonsense about fending off evil spirits with Bibles and holy water and garlic or whatever. Automatic weapons is what you need.

Insufficiently advanced magic is indistinguishable from the ruthlessly forced faux charm of a witless, sloppily assembled, lazily crafted movie that believes it can get away with such shoddiness because it’s ‘for kids.’
Fashion designer Tom Ford has made the cinematic equivalent of a fashion magazine spread…
Denzel was carrying the fire, right, Papa? Yes. The book was the fire? Yes. No. The boy wouldnt understand.
One wonders what sins Jackie Chan could have committed in a single lifetime to warrant having an abomination like this pathetic excuse for a movie weighing down his karma.
Riveting but not exciting, not in the sense that action movies have taught us to get turned on by the foreplay of countdowns and the climax of explosions…
It’s the perfect, ultimate, brilliant extrapolation of the vampire conceit: What happens once almost everyone’s a vampire, unturned humans are nearly extinct, and the tastiest, most satisfying blood — the human kind — is running out?
I say it’s about time, as we enter the second decade of the 21st century, to put behind us all that nonsense about ‘feminism’ and undignified female self-determination. Yes, we ladies must at last put down our feet daintily clad in $600 shoes and say: No more.
Please, horny teenaged lads — *please* — do not heed the “advice” of movies like this one, which mistakes being an unappealing doormat reeking of desperation (which girls don’t like) for being a genuinely nice guy (which girls do like)…