Has a verve rare in big-budget movies at the moment. Fun and fresh and legitimately engages with its source material on the levels of story, visuals, and mythology all at once. It feels like discovering storytelling anew.
Lazy and trite, with a passive protagonist. It’s as if no one here understands the appeal of the postapocalyptic YA genre it is attempting to piggyback on.
An elegy for old-school reportage and the people who pursue it, and a journalistic procedural with a snappy rush of urgent discovery and consequence.
Yawningly dull Cold War chess drama squanders the charms and talents of Tobey Maguire (as Bobby Fischer) and Liev Schreiber (as Boris Spassky).
I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a film that looks more like the filmmaker’s midlife-crisis wish-fulfillment fantasy than this one.
It is so cute what this flick thinks is “dangerous” and “offensive”!
I bet if this Australian flick ever gets a release in the U.S., Universal will change the title. I can imagine the uproar a title such as Mental would cause.
How does Seann William Scott have a career? This is a serious question and a great mystery to me…
You wanna know who the killer is? I’ll tell you who the killer is. In fact, there’s two killers: that’s the twist. Director Wes Craven and screenwriter Kevin Williamson worked in tandem here to murder the horror comedy… or at least their own franchise. Not that it wasn’t dead already.
Liev Schreiber should be required to sit still for a burn from Jon Stewart’s new goatee for spoiling *Salt* on *The Daily Show* tonight.