film criticism by maryann johanson | celebrating 25 years: 1997–2022
With its melancholy regret and bittersweet nostalgia, this is far superior to the 1986 blockbuster. But as the sun goes down on American imperialism here, the last-gasp celebration of it unsettles.
And we have winners!
Cluelessly simplistic rendering of a 1990s media injustice ignores all the context in which it happened and demonizes the one journalist who acted professionally. Fails even as a conservative screed.
A self-indulgent, faux-woke mashup of noir crime, black comedy, and Tarantino-esque ultraviolence. Some great performances, including a spectacular feature debut from Cynthia Erivo; shame they’re so wasted.
A same-old story of a white man’s angst, set against the “exotic” backdrop of 1980s war-torn Beirut. This brand of Hollywood myopia is tired, uninteresting, and no longer acceptable.
Edgar Wright used to send up cinematic clichés with gusto and with huge humor. Here he just embraces them — and his sullen, unengaging hero — unironically.
Take True Lies and Mr. & Mrs. Smith. Remove wit, sexy charm, and satire on marriage. This is a recipe for a movie anyone wants to see?
I might go with Mad Men, which represents a reexamination of the past in a way that no other series set in the past has done.
Trying to figure what is the most offensive thing about this accidental mashup of 70s Woody Allen and Sex and the City…
Apparently like Knocked Up, only the pregnancy wasn’t an accident…
