Up until Lohanian — Lohanesque? Get off my sexy, homicidal lawn! Though the Sandman does not show his face in this feature — a dime-store espionage flick that casts Blart as a spy novelist who stumbles into one of his own stories — his authorial fingerprints of passive chauvinism and total stylistic indifference have been smeared all over the frame. Highlight and delete, man, or at least hold the key down!
At a suspiciously short 69 minutes — truly, the nicest run time of all — it comes and goes without leaving any indentation on your mind or soul, a memory-foam movie if ever there was one. The Kissing Booth Teens and their mushy, impressionable brains should be kept far away from this putrid rom-com that plays like the most regrettable studio acquisition of Let it instead die the natural death awaiting it.
The Ridiculous 6 Sandler stretched himself a little bit by getting into genre work with this Western. Springing this viciously unfunny John Ford riff on America two weeks before Christmas like a present nobody especially wanted, Sandler portrays a leathery cowpuncher on a search for his wayward Pa with his legion of half-brothers. The Silence Part of me wishes I could simply cut-and-paste my blurb about Bird Box here with a few altered proper nouns and kick my feet up.
The militant sameness enforced by this algorithm has never been so perceivable, as it sculpts a novel into a remora clinging to the underside of A Quiet Place and its sensory-deprived progeny. The monsters hunting by sound are impish bat freaks in this instance, and until the late-in-the-game introduction of an evil priest, shunted in to fill the empty space where a real antagonist should be, each beat syncs up with a corresponding section of its twin. Not even the divergent casting — Stanley Tucci leads his family to safety, while Chilling Adventures of Sabrina star Kiernan Shipka is his daughter by cross-promotional synergy — can provide any sense of individuality.
The dead giveaway: It was written by a guy who made his name penning rip-offs. One afternoon, a chauvinist pig walks into a pole on the street and awakens in a world where the roles of men and women have been completely reversed! The satire just writes itself!
FOUR STAR FILMS
Though, in a much more real way, it does not. To say nothing of the remorselessly exploitative finale, in which the mutilation that Laura inflicts on herself is treated not as rock bottom, but as a happy ending. This sci-fi epic is an incoherent mess filtered through an intensely personal vision, and the result is something closer to Battlefield Earth than Southland Tales.
The writing confounds the viewer by constantly bursting out into narrative seizures about robot sex or child pornography while remaining steadfastly boring through its two-plus hours. The Fundamentals of Caring That this film could actually manage to be worse than its title is a grim sort of accomplishment. Its pathos is so disingenuous and suffocating that not even Human Embodiment of Charm Paul Rudd can salvage it. He plays a depressed writer red flag No. Together, they set out on a cross-country road trip red flag No. By starting with a premise so rich with potential for overcooked emotional manipulation, the film sets an uphill battle for itself so steep that it can fall right off the mountain.
The film behaves as if his efforts to use his extensive knowledge of her personality to trick her younger self into falling for him are sweet but misguided. But one online search and, ah, it all becomes clear: Graham has spent years as the star of The Vampire Diaries. Father of the Year Our world is full of unknowable mysteries: How does the aurora borealis form? What happened to D. Their idiotic feud to determine the top paterfamilias leads to accidental MDMA-dropping and male breast enhancement, but the mischief does little to perk up an otherwise stultifying family outing.
This film is the equal and opposite reaction to the era of the Hot Dad.
This theoretical person would take it all at face value and love it. Why is there so much trouble in the world? It is, at least, slightly less unpleasant than The Do-Over , though not for lack of trying. The almost-too-telegenic graduates that this film follows for three magical months before college — an ensemble led by K.
Blockbuster Where did the French get their reputation as masters of romance? Lola Charlotte Gabris kicks Jeremy Syrus Shahidi to the curb with good reason, and still the film tacitly cheers him on as he goes about whipping up a DIY superhero movie to win her back. The most baffling aspect of all is that a female director would be behind this blend of toxic male entitlement and high-viscosity corn syrup.
In this aspirationally moronic comedy from where else! France, two suit-wearers Manu Payet and Jonathan Cohen make a career change into the party industry, arranging such unspeakable getaways under the banner of Crazy Tours. This premise mostly acts as a container for lots of narcotics, pendulous breasts, and other monkey business, all of which is for nothing more than its own sake.
The contentious debate over depiction vs. One-time Hitman director Xavier Gens is simply too accommodating to the men making all the accommodations. From this unsound premise he weaves an incomprehensible story involving a powerful magic wand, Noomi Rapace as a tremulous elf, and latent plot-hole-fixing superpowers revealed at just the right moment. While some of us might use technopathy to redistribute wealth or expose covert wrongdoing, our hero Tom Bill Milner instead goes after neighborhood toughs like a USB-enabled Kick-Ass.
The After Party WorldStarHipHop, that august online repository of fight clips, uploaded freestyles, and twerk videos, produced this misbegotten rap comedy in their first foray into feature-length entertainment. But even without the name-drops, the Worldstar stamp would still be evident from the long line of rapper cameos, some better than others. Jadakiss stopping by to drop a little knowledge about Eric B.
Tau Riding high off his Oscar win for a Winston Churchill buried under pounds of prosthetic jowl, Gary Oldman estranged himself even further from humanity by voicing the artificially intelligent computer program that gives this dismal sci-fi project its title. Sandy Wexler This biopic of a fictitious, incompetent, ill-mannered talent manager benefited from the subtle handicap of lowered expectations, exceeding the likes of The Do-Over with a handful of decent one-liners and some amusing celebrity cameos.
The Tribe How the same laws requiring Lee Daniels to slap his name on The Butler fail to prevent confusion between this stink-bomb and the superlative film of the same title also on Netflix as recently as a few months ago! God save any poor soul looking for the latter who lands on the former, another dispatch from French studio comedy hell. Big-man-dancing jokes. CEO nice.
Or Easy A. This is the saddest kind of bad movie, one that feels like a worse version of so many wonderful movies. The latest in a long line of films that know teenagers use social media but utterly fail to understand how, this pat after-school special dispenses nuggets of wisdom about being true to yourself and knowing who your friends are that possess all the depth and nuance of a tweet. Gugu Mbatha-Raw does her best as an astronaut mourning the death of her children would you believe that comes up later on in the film?
A handful of nifty set pieces get kneecapped by technical shortcomings, and the big reveal as to what the hell this all has to do with Cloverfield is so cheap, so manipulative, and so nihilistic that it could have come from one of the latter seasons of The Walking Dead. Tapping Captain America to portray an Israeli commando would be like getting J-Law to play Anne Frank; Jewish viewers can smell the falsity like a brisket cooking in the oven.
Jungle Tales: Celtic Memories of an Epic Stand
Slavery, genocide, and now this? We were all so focused on the question of whitewashing in this originally Asian property that the media narrative almost entirely ignored how defiantly uninteresting this movie is. It contradicts itself too many times to make any lucid point. Not all funny voices are created equal.
Though the facts may be real and the stunts authentic, her pain is all fake. Only the most dedicated horse girls will be able to make it through this rough ride without getting thrown. Extinction Universal had a good reason to ditch this sci-fi genocide allegory with scant days to go before its theatrical release. A rogue human comes to learn that the bots can feel , just like flesh-and-blood homo sapiens, cuing up the sagacity that killing people is wrong.
A leaden work of Commentary dressed as an action tentpole — more like Bore of the Worlds , am I right? For this big, broad, loud, obvious comedy does indeed aspire to satire with its harebrained plot about two thick-skulled news-radio journalists ginning up a bogus Ecuadorian revolution from the safety of a guest room in America.
But Gervais cannot muster either the brains or balls to say anything substantive about the anything-goes state of modern media or hectic banana republics in South America. The heroically distasteful Gervais of The Office feels so far away. For starters, his loudly stated identification with the blue-collar clock-punchers of America rings hollow as the man himself continues to be devoured by his own wealth. Leo gets to chew a whole lot of scenery as she takes the fight to remove prayer from public schools into court, attracts scorn from every corner of society, and eventually gets herself abducted.
Regular people will wonder how a film ostensibly dealing with First Amendment rights could possibly generate zero original insight. He took the biggest crowd-pleaser in his repertoire fatuous boob David Brent of the British Office out of mothballs for this uninspired spin-off that finds the former middle manager, reduced now to grunt work at a toilet chemical company, touring with his band Foregone Conclusion.
The nondescript French fields in which Jonathan Helpert shot this sneeze of a movie look more like, well, fields with some crap thrown all over the place than a wasteland made arid by an unbreathable atmosphere. Their unendurable trip to a still-standing art museum will make you sympathize with the gaseous cloud.
And yet! Sierra Burgess Is a Loser The insidious influence of the almighty algorithm feels more palpable in some movies than others. Though that leaves the question of how one film can be both focus-grouped to death and completely bereft of any self-knowledge regarding tone or character. Her scheme to win the man of her dreams involves deceiving him and intentionally humiliating her one friend. Duck Duck Goose Children, if your parents have exposed you to this very-bad-no-good cartoon, tell your teacher, religious official, or another responsible adult in your area.
They should know better than to subject an innocent child to the volley of poop jokes, age-inappropriate pop-culture references, and pathos-as-afterthought contained in this sub- Minions animated abomination.
The Case of Al Franken | The New Yorker
Jim Gaffigan voices a carefree goose bachelor who ends up in custody of two defenseless baby ducks separated from their flock. He has no choice but to take them under his wing and return them from whence they came, learning some threadbare lessons about responsibility along the way. And because this film was produced by the Wanda Media Company as well as Jiangsu Yuandongli Computer Animation Company, and because we are at the mercy of the Chinese entertainment economy, the film is set in China.
For all intents and purposes, you have now seen the film XOXO. Blood Will Tell Cops have a saying that when a woman dies under mysterious circumstances, nine times out of ten, the husband did it. This thriller coming to us via Spain poses the question as to whether that might be the case, then expects us to spend the next couple hours stroking our chins about the all-but-assured. The truth comes out, as we knew it would, only to conceal a more pointless and vacuous version of the truth within itself.
In other words, some twists are best left un-twisted, especially the ones slapped together from convenience and happenstance just to set up a belabored full-circle ending. Paradox I got yer paradox right here: How could a sci-fi—Western featuring Neil Young as a futuristic bandit roving the countryside in search of computer keyboards and Super 8 cameras feel like such a chore, even at 73 minutes?
Young is, at best, conscious.
Call me when this gets the Disaster Artist treatment by the mids.