Without the performance, this movie would be nothing. It kind of still is a nothing motion picture, but for an intro to Jack, it works as just that. A tedious affair with so much unnecessary fictionalisation – like, what’s the point if it’s a biopic? – needs a bit more going for it than acting showcase material. As for the lad Hoffa, is he really as interesting as the surfeit of films suggest? Not really.
What’s the term, intimate portrait of an empty vessel?
This was quite an amusing watch. A performer of sorts mercilessly taking the piss out of himself through his dummy is disconcerting, but then you’ve also got all these crude sexual innuendos with highly colourful vitriol. I burst out laughing three times.
The voice of the dummy has the most vexing dialect, the concoction sounding like a cross between Frank Nitti from The Untouchables (1987) and a blocked toilet. The protagonist is clearly away with the fairies, but then it is Anthony Hopkins with his hand up a puppet. What do you expect?
I got a bit tired of it after an hour. You can’t be carrying a Johnny Cab midget for 60 minutes. But it’s worth it for the crash zooms, the sledgehammer sound design consisting almost entirely of laser noises, and the spectacle that is Hopkins in a cardigan.
Absolute rubbish. But in a good way. And that’s rare these days.
De Niro can do anything. And long may it continue.
I desperately wished to like this because of William Friedkin and his mostly fabulous work but it wasn’t meant to be. I absolutely hated it.
It starts with this film-within-a-film narrative and the suggestion appears to be that making movies is a sin and invites possession. Or maybe I’m reading too much into it.
There were extended shots of leaves falling in this for no reason and it bothered me, like the leaves were attempted symbolism. Maybe it was an augury for bad things, like how the writing progressed. The most baffling aspect of this whole escapade was the fact you have a wee child on the verge of death in a cushty Georgetown house of a famous actress and not a single cop, nurse, social worker, doctor ventures into it aside from a chain-smoking Priest and his spiritual benefactor.
The horror? It’s not scary, just nasty. You’re merely viewing sadism, with very boring actors and a story so nonsensical there should be a Muppet waltzing in with a musical number. Lighting was terrible, framing something out of a TV show (a bad one), and the sound mixing was crushingly theatrical, but not backed up by anything visually memorable.
Horror is some poor bloke getting stabbed over an argument about football teams or having to work 37.5 hours a week in a supermarket, not this shite.
Pointless motion picture.
Anyone who thinks it is good needs their head examined.
What a tragedy this Revolution was.
A mentally unhinged cluster of psychopaths managed to hijack a state and proceed to massacre hundreds of millions beyond their own country, putting their own in Gulags. An ideology which doesn’t even acknowledge its own nonsensical dialectic should be looked at. It’s a religion for the worst.
Now that’s out of the way, let’s get to the movie.
I have a lot of time for Warren Beatty. He’s a one-man show with proper acting ability. Quite the handsome lad, I would say.
The film:
I fell asleep around the 15-minute mark. Seemed rubbish. Wikipedia informed me how it ends.
Next.
Was expecting a lot more from this one considering the thesps involved.
It was so dull and grim, the story better left to the stage than the possibilities of cinema. And it’s not much of a story. I was mostly bored and halfway through could see what was coming.
Last year’s The Banshees of Inisherin (2022) came to mind in its tedium.
Highlight of this is Tom Berenger turning up dressed like Dick Tracy.
Nothing much to add here.
One of the worst movies I have seen in a very long time. Apparently, it’s a ground-breaking allegory.
Lazy writing, boring tropes, shot like a student movie, infuriating stupidity as a concept. Every character a plonker. And overwhelmingly boring.
Hated it after 20 mins. It didn’t help matters that the bloke who Pacino choke-held at the dinner party in Scent of a Woman (1992) stars in it wearing a polo neck.
0/5.
I don’t enjoy ranting about some films but I’m just trying to save others, aye.
You’re welcome.
What rubbish this was!
The lines weren’t delivered with any conviction at all. It’s just the writer/director shoehorning his own real-life monologues into every scene. The movie is essentially a rant.
Nice bit of attempted world building but it’s all superfluous. And lots of stoic, emotionless men sighing. Over and over and over.
Worst movie I’ve seen in quite some time.
Watch it if you enjoy shite.
The Holy Trinity (Predator, Die Hard, Red October) with the Bruce Willis gem at the centre, McTiernan redefined or perhaps created the modern action film, a wee cradle of movies with wit, imagination, state of the art pyrotechnics, and an unnerving ability for shot selection. You can’t lose that talent, despite the Odysseus-long hiatus from a camera-wielding exploit.
He’s back from Shawshank as a model ex-prisoner.
John, just get a camera, sound kit, and a few pals together and make a short your new calling card.
Why is Marlon Brando in this? I’m confused. He appears lost, like he’s doing King Lear and not a man-in-a-cape flick.
Anyway, it’s an okay movie once the boring prologue ends, and I don’t mind the rubbish special effects. They kind of add to the charm.
This is what a superhero movie can be when it doesn’t feel the requirement for daft political subtext or the shoehorning in of a fashionable theme of the day. Just tell the fucking story!
It doesn’t half drag on but it’s a good template for that kind of movie. But I’ll never watch it again.
Wanderings and ... wonderings. 