Let’s get the epic quote out the way first:
“One: never underestimate your opponent. Expect the unexpected. Two: take it outside. Never start anything inside unless it’s absolutely necessary. And three: be nice.”
That’s a guide to life right there.
How to define a very good daft movie? It’s Road House (1989), the quotes ready-made for a dissertation, an ’80s tribute from the ’80s. And it’s so violently entertaining.
That Swayze mullet should be in a museum.
The director here can direct like the bloke who constructed The Wicker Man (1973) can, and I’m not alluding to Nicolas Cage and “the bees”.
Quite the captivating drama this one, featuring the usual committee of elders/morons, the martyr lead, and your go-to religious allegories, but it’s done so well. It’s more watchable than Persona (1966), and definitely less irritating.
That’s it for the spoilers.
It’s pointless. It’s boring. It’s a waste of your time.
Another bit of rubbish.
I’ve seen some shit (accidental alliteration) in my time but bloody hell, Deck the Halls (2006) takes the proverbial biscuit.
I’ll just leave you with this from Richard Roeper:
“You can’t believe how excruciatingly awful this movie is. It is bad in a way that will cause unfortunate viewers to huddle in the lobby afterward, hugging in small groups, consoling one another with the knowledge that it’s over, it’s over, thank God, it’s over. Compared to the honest hard labor performed by tens of millions of Americans every day, a film critic’s job is like a winning lottery ticket. But there IS work involved, and it can be painful, and the next time someone tells me I have the best job in the world, I’m going to grab them by the ear, fourth-grade-teacher-in-1966-style, and drag them to see Deck the Halls.”
And that’s that.
It’s the high expectations due to the extraordinary A-list cast that sort of let it down a bit. It’s no masterpiece, but it’s good. What’s lacking is a mood, a sense of you really being involved in proceedings. It’s just too workmanlike and clean, and lacks any sense of style. The cop-mob connections aren’t really illustrated, and there’s too much nebulous backstory between the characters.
However, it is acted as well as you’d expect, and even Stallone is fine in it, though his character could have had an edge to him, some shades of grey. The supporting cast are also stellar, and it was surreal seeing the T-1000 with a moustache. For all the considerable talent on display, Ray Liotta walks off with the movie, his conflicted Figgis shambling his way through the narrative, a guilt-ridden bad boy whom you’re never quite sure about until the denouement.
Nice poster, too.
This has a genuinely intriguing opening and the movie never lets up in its unpredictability. The four-character ensemble, lost in a listlessness of their own making, take an unorthodox and ludicrous premise and roll with it. Of chief concern here is the fun of the Devil’s buttermilk – teachers giddying around in a desperate attempt to recapturing a lost stage of development – but also the Dark Side. And it gets very dark, booze an outlet for a deeper malaise.
The best tragicomedy I’ve seen in ages.
This movie is so mad and frankly ludicrous but it’s so well put together, acted, and for a movie about killer worms, actually well written. And what a pleasure it is to see the late, great character actor Fred Ward in a leading role. Why hadn’t I seen Tremors until now?
Superb.
Brutalist and utopia are never two words to be used in the same sentence without negative connotations, but it’s a recurring theme with these building projects. We did, however, experience the “aesthetically pleasing” luxuries of A Clockwork Orange (1971) because of these architectural faux pas.
Once again: “As we walked along the flatblock marina, I was calm on the outside but thinking all the time. So now it was to be Georgie the General, saying what we should do, and what not to do, and Dim as his mindless, grinning bulldog. But, suddenly, I viddied that thinking was for the gloopy ones, and that the oomny ones used like inspiration and what Bog sends. For now it was lovely music that came to my aid. There was a window open, with a stereo on, and I viddied right at once what to do.”
Ralph Fiennes has the strangest way of delivering his lines in some movies and this is no exception. It’s like he shouldn’t fully be involved in the world he resides in, like he’s a tourist. But it works perfectly in this ahead-of-its-time cyberpunk thriller from the always interesting Kathryn Bigelow.
The POV scenes are a technical tour de force and wouldn’t look out of place in a peak De Palma, but rather than merely an aesthetic treat they serve the story, which is never dull and continually engrossing.
And it’s not bad looking, either.
It bombed at the box office. Strange.
Wanderings and ... wonderings. 