film criticism by maryann johanson | since 1997
Filmmaker Amy Seimetz evokes a taut, cursed mundanity, an allegorical contemplation of culture at its most basic level: when it fails and everyone is hopeless. Accidentally hits our pandemic mood.
GoodFellas, except they’re gals. A cinematic bonbon of delinquent deliciousness that easily wraps us up in charmed complicity. And the exquisite lack of a male gaze means it’s never salacious.
It’s the end of the world. Finally, a legitimate reason for a man to experience emotion. We’ve seen this all before… except not quite so ridiculous.
“I need a man, not a little boy with a teddy bear.” This is a shocking thing to hear in a piece of American pop culture in the early 21st century…
You think Grandma and your biological clock are putting pressure on you to find Someone Special? That’s nothing to the unstoppable asteroid with planet Earth in its sights.
I’m gonna go out on a limb and predict that this one will be less fun than Seeking a Friend for the End of the World…
It’s the end-of-the-world disaster movie as a romantic comedy. Already it’s funnier than Melancholia…
