A ludicrously rose-colored — literally in regards to the stunning visuals, figuratively in terms of the irritating narration’s writing, delivered by John Krasinski (cash that check!) — cinematic depiction of nature.
A ludicrously rose-colored — literally in regards to the stunning visuals, figuratively in terms of the irritating narration’s writing, delivered by John Krasinski (cash that check!) — cinematic depiction of nature.
Harvey Weinstein’s Gaby Dellal’s 3 Generations is a prime example of how excessive studio meddling (in this case, by the notorious Weinstein Company) motivated by an undue obsession with box office and/or Oscar positioning often results in abominably-incomprehensible editing (there are two editors here! TWO! 2! For a 90-minute character dramedy!), sapping what could’ve been a perfectly fine, effectively-intimate human story of its natural humanity, thereby becoming more reminiscent of an ineffectively-transparent corporate product.
Raoul Peck’s I Am Not Your Negro deserves full-throated commendation for potentially introducing the national treasure that was James Baldwin to the masses.
While Blumhouse Productions may command most of the public’s attention, IFC Midnight keeps churning out equally, if not more noteworthy horror flicks, such as Liam Gavin’s A Dark Song.
I was initially going to call back to a repeated formulation of mine by describing Terry George’s The Promise as “Masterpiece Theatre (Terry’s specialty!), Armenian-Genocide-with-a-ginormous-budget edition,” but honestly, likening this schlock to a quasi-hallowed institution feels unfair to the latter.
Every moment of Michal Marczak’s All These Sleepless Nights (great title, by the by) is a symbolic riddle left to the audience to piece together for themselves.
Continue reading “ALL THESE SLEEPLESS NIGHTS (Michal Marczak)”
Michael O’Shea’s The Transfiguration is basically the second American remake of Tomas Alfredson’s Let the Right One In (namechecked TWICE here).
Bassem Youssef, the focus of Sara Taksler’s Tickling Giants, is an essential figure to know nowadays (talk about taking real artistic risks), and he kind of makes the documentary a must-see…but it would’ve been more compelling with some semblance of objectivity; not a single competing perspective is presented.
The craziest creature design this side of Guillermo del Toro can be found in Jeremy Gillespie and Steven Kostanski’s The Void, but it fails to overcome the worst attributes of the horror genre that pervade the rest: on-the-nose dialogue, cardboard-cutout characters, canned overacting, a bafflingly overcomplicated plot that’s incoherently told, beaten-to-death aesthetics, an overwhelming feeling of apathy regarding what’s going to happen and who it’s going to happen to, and heavily-borrowed mythology.
Continue reading “THE VOID (Jeremy Gillespie, Steven Kostanski)”
I’m well-aware that James Foley’s Fifty Shades Darker is objectively terrible, but that still doesn’t diminish the unspeakable joy I derive from sex-filled mainstream releases.