
Cars 3 movie review: road to nowhere
Three movies in, and this world of sentient driverless cars still creeps me out, and still does nothing except advertise a mountain of related merch for kids.

Three movies in, and this world of sentient driverless cars still creeps me out, and still does nothing except advertise a mountain of related merch for kids.
OMG, is this supposed to be this funny?
As pure drama, these are still fascinating to watch, especially to see the early work of some now very famous names. But as a look at what TV was doing half a century ago, it’s riveting.
I heard about Paul Newman’s death tonight from the front page of a newspaper in a gas station in Stratford-upon-Avon, which means it must have been announced yesterday. Feel free to chat here about favorite Newman roles and other public works (spaghetti sauce, charitable works, etc.).
There’s not a thing that isn’t hauntingly, quietly electrifying about this, the first truly grown-up comic book movie. Fans of the medium have known for years that the form had no trouble being Important, but the film industry (though perhaps not all filmmakers themselves) has stubbornly insisted on treating comic adaptations as juvenile.
The Sting is pretty universally acknowledged as one of the best films ever made. From the flawless performances all round to the clever script, this is movie magic that approaches a kind of wizardry. Not a note is out of place — every line, every scene builds on what’s come before until it ends so breathlessly and abruptly that it leaves you astounded at its audacity. Lonnegan’s not the only one who gets conned; writer David S. Ward and director George Roy Hill sting the viewer, too. This is just about as perfect as movies come.