The weird behaviour of the extras and background actors in this is hilarious to watch, as is the entire movie. Cary Grant’s accent makes no sense, nor does the film. The rear projection is so bad that it can only be a Hitchcock joke. As entertainment, I enjoyed every moment of it, because it’s self-aware and self-deprecating, and most unpredictable.
I think the career of Hitch was just a case of him taking the piss out of people whilst brushing up on his film aesthetics. And that’s fine with me.
The ominous opening set the tone despite the humour, some of it actually funny, and this was never dull even though the Assault on Precinct 13 (1976) scenario kept most of the shenanigans indoors.
Gerard Butler wasn’t dire! He’s sometimes capable of being okay and here is one of those occasions. Frank Grillo, Cutty from The Wire, the cast is not an issue and every character was credible.
Rather thrilling hokum, genuinely inexperienced cops of mostly limited talents really struggling when up against hardened criminals.
It does, however, wholeheartedly exhibit that infuriating habit of American cinema, characters constantly addressing one another by their names during every single exchange they have, as if the audience will have forgotten who they are.
Michael Shannon is quite an extraordinary actor, and only a Tom Hardy or Michael Fassbender could inject such pathos and reasoning in a snake like Rick Carver. It’s Gordon Gekko for the 2007-2008 financial crisis, but with more of a backstory and a wee bit more humanity in the very naughty lad. He clearly exploits Garfield from the start but also sees massive potential in his brains and work ethic; it’s a relationship built on a knife edge.
And it shows you, to a degree, how this system works – exploitation, cynicism, government and corporations working together to screw you. And the exploited bails them out. It’s shocking but not really surprising.
Gripping all the way through, a life lesson and a character study.
I’m sure this was about something, and that something was something other than surface sheen and pyrotechnics, but it wasn’t something that interested me in the slightest.
So I won’t be bothering with a review other than that of Kenneth Branagh’s Russian ‘accent’, which receives a 0/5 from me.
I expected something abysmal but instead found Mark Margolis, David Keith (not to be confused with Keith David), Vondas from The Wire, Joey Pants, the hulking Michael Clarke Duncan, and a possessed Colin Farrell having the time of his life, seemingly (“I want a bloody costume”). A colourful cast, folk that can act. Despite the unwatchable Jon Favreau (he is awful in everything), it’s not bad at all.
I was terribly entertained, and a sequel would have been at least pleasant. The movie has the standard silly one-liners and inevitable awkward attempts at comedy, but it’s suitably grim and grimy, and the story has some basis in a believable reality. I was also borderline shocked to see how much of this movie was appropriated for Batman Begins (2005), and the ending lifted verbatim.
Affleck is also fine in it. And the music is banging.
A behemoth chimp with an affinity for sign language. It wouldn’t be the first time for such a revelation – Koko.
It’s quite average in a pleasing fashion compared with most of the shite you see from these Multiverse/Monsterverse/Whatever worlds. What remains is the excruciating dialogue.
A non-character/cardboard hiree offers an observation regarding a life-changing vignette and a lad (usually a lad) retorts by saying the glaringly obvious.
It goes like this:
“It’s an easy mission, a kid could do it.”
“I hate kids.”
That’s the nature of these loopy exchanges, the gems from the writing room. There is no reason for anyone to spiel stuff like this, but they still do. It’s all confusing.
Just have folk in these flicks not speak, and present them reacting all flummoxed to stomping monsters merely through facial tics.
Good stuff in it: the voice of Lance Reddick (beautiful), and a monkey fighting a lizard on an aircraft carrier was absolutely insane in its realisation.
Crimson Tide (1995) is fucking amazing, and it’s not just for the extended screaming stand-off between Gene and Denzel. It’s a film about an issue, a rather big issue, yet is shot with such electricity, edited and paced as good as any action-thriller, and with a Hans Zimmer score sounding like it was composed when he was conducting an esoteric shite. Even the intermittent pop culture references, weird as they are, kind of work, a way to relieve the unbearable tension.