The Men Who Stare at Goats (review)

I’m not sure if I’ve seen a more sublimely funny moment on screen this year than the one in which George Clooney, in all deep serious earnestness, tries to convince Ewan McGregor that he — McGregor, that is — is a Jedi warrior.

Year One (review)

Thanks so much, everyone involved in *Year One,* for setting back the noble causes of blasphemy, rational thinking, and humanism about a century.

Ghostbusters (review)

Would The X-Files exist without 1984’s Ghostbusters? Would Buffy? Would world-weary sarcasm and snarky self-reference ever have reached the level of art form if not for Peter Venkman? The answers, okay, more than likely, are Yes, Yes, and Yes. But they’ll all more fun because Ghostbusters seared its way through our impressionable adolescent brains at just the right time to inflict the most grievous psychological injury.

The Santa Clause and Jack Frost (review)

Little did I know when I reviewed Jingle All the Way that it is part of a trend in 90s holiday movies in which inattentive, workaholic Boomer dads go all out in attempts to win back the affections of their young, ignored sons. But while Jingle’s Arnold has to resort to a girly endeavor like shopping in the effort to appease his spawn, The Santa Clause’s Tim Allen and Jack Frost’s Michael Keaton have a much cooler alternative: magic. Allen deals in white magic; Keaton’s, unfortunately, is of the darker variety.