Who Made It? Who Cares?
I thought that new silly-looking Tom Hanks movie was a Coen brothers project, but the television marketing for The Ladykillers makes no mention of them. So I figured I was mistaken. Nope.
I thought that new silly-looking Tom Hanks movie was a Coen brothers project, but the television marketing for The Ladykillers makes no mention of them. So I figured I was mistaken. Nope.
The blog “Notes from Classy’s Kitchen” recently cited my essay on Stone Reader.
Who in his right mind would place Stuart Saves His Family, a movie based on a regularly awful Saturday Night Live skit, among his favorites? Well … me.
The level of self-reference in American Splendor should be too cute and modern for words or patience, but it has the strange effect of being more honest than either a straight documentary or drama.
A reader complained biliously about my comments on Capturing the Friedmans, specifically my refusal to dismiss as ludicrous the accusations of sexual abuse against the Friedman father and one of his sons. His comments are worth repeating and responding to, because they speak to important issues in the criminal-justice system, sexual-abuse cases, and objectivity in documentary filmmaking.
There’s a good movie in the seed of There’s Something About Mary – that being a beautiful woman carries with it the burden of a dozen or so stalkers – but the brothers Farrelly use it simply as a vehicle for a handful of sex-related sight gags spread very thinly over nearly two hours.
If you want a perfect example of how great material can transcend its treatment, watch HBO’s recent two-part mini-series of Angels in America.
Paul Thomas Anderson’s Punch-Drunk Love is not bad, exactly, just anxious and annoying and perfectly framed and puzzling. It does make a certain amount of sense, though, if you look at from my skewed perspective.
The premise of Idle Hands: an easy way to cash in on an audience that has never heard of some of the movies listed below. The story: Pot-smoking slacker teen loses control of his right hand, which goes on a murderous rampage and is undeterred by being cut off and microwaved.
Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels, writer/director Guy Ritchie’s first feature, doesn’t just borrow from Pulp Fiction; it wants to be its British equivalent. Surprisingly, it’s mostly successful, nailing the seemingly offhand style, the description-proof plot, and the casual violence.