
The Predator movie review: pointless retro junk
Garbage. A bad excuse for a movie, even for the pulpy disposable popcorn nonsense it wants to be. Incoherent and illogical, cheap and shoddy. Wannabe sci-fi action horror that can’t pull off any of it.

Garbage. A bad excuse for a movie, even for the pulpy disposable popcorn nonsense it wants to be. Incoherent and illogical, cheap and shoddy. Wannabe sci-fi action horror that can’t pull off any of it.

Two fun characters played by two great actors with fantastic chemistry together go in search of a movie, and — spoiler! — never quite find it.

“I am Iron Man.” When Tony repeats that line here, it’s newly thrilling, and far more intriguing than it previously was.
We know how it is: You’d like to go to the movies this weekend, but soldiers in gas masks have your town surrounded and will shoot on sight if you try to leave. But you can have a multiplex-like experience at home with a collection of the right DVDs. And when someone asks you on … more…
It’s something close to a stroke of genius that once-wunderkind screenwriter Shane Black sought out Robert Downey Jr. to star in his directorial debut. Not because Downey is so achingly sublime an actor and so funkily charismatic a screen presence that it near to makes you want to weep with despair at what brilliance we’ve missed from him over the years during which he wasn’t able to keep his shit together — though he certainly does give us one of the most deliciously shivery-great performances so far this year in *Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang.*