
Bridge of Spies movie review: the lawyer who went out in the Cold War
Presents American hypocrisy in defense of America with the snorting derision it warrants, while also being a gripping and intense Cold War thriller.

Presents American hypocrisy in defense of America with the snorting derision it warrants, while also being a gripping and intense Cold War thriller.

Even dumb SF action needs a certain grounding in plausible reality. But nothing here makes a damn bit of sense.

Guy Ritchie’s spy-themed GQ fashion shoot. Pure popcorn nonsense, sleek and chic and vaguely funny, but instantly forgettable.

Apparently made by snickering 12-year-olds who like naked boobies and have heard rumors about the phenomenon known as “the business trip.”

Might be interesting if it had enough passion and guts to take a stand, but ends up in the mushy middle of the road, which surely sprang from a desire to be “fair” and “balanced.”
After a few days to digest this and multiple viewings to comfirm my feelings about this episode, I am sad to say that it treads dangerously close to a point at which I want to disavow it as “real” Doctor Who and start pretending that it doesn’t “count.”

What if the dude who played Nosferatu in that great old 1922 silent German horror movie was actually really a vampire? Cool.
It’s all very silly, the ultimate in Depression-era escapism: a piece of Hollywood magic that’s impossibly romantic filled with people who are impossibly elegant, bantering and wisecracking constantly. Its fascinating and diverse characters and a rather dark ending, however, give Grand Hotel more heft than any of its hellish spawn such as The Love Boat or Fantasy Island.