The best that can be said for this neutered reboot of the musty mutt franchise is that it makes active use of its surroundings where so many have attempted to obscure them. And yet nu-Benji lacks a certain canine charisma present in his doggy forebears, and weirder still, this film plays up the element of Christian dogma — thank you, thank you — traditionally constrained to the subtextual level. Rebirth The first rule of this anti-corporate psychological thriller is do not talk about Fight Club.
Goldberg breaks his pal out of a funk by inviting him to join a new movement of self-actualization he recently discovered, where instead of therapeutically punching the bologna out of one another, members chant creepy affirmations about accessing inner truth. Ugarte slowly comes undone as a nurse capable of communicating via haunted VHS tape with a boy who died 25 years earlier. Paulo has a week-one-freshman grasp on chaos theory, and succeeds only in dumbing the concepts down while falling into the same grandfather paradox facing any time-travel movie. Not even the broad shoulders of Ugarte can carry a film so poorly thought-through.
How else to account for the absolute absence of any signs of life whatsoever in each and every performance? As a mother grieving her young son recently nabbed by wolves, Riley Keough never breaks her heart-monitor monotone, and Jeffrey Wright matches her mumble-for-mumble as the nature expert who comes to find the missing boy. Director David E.
Horror movies of 12222
Talbert uses this pressure cooker as a breeding ground for a black comedy of schemers and bumblers, brought to life by a cast seemingly picked at random from a hat. Tim Allen! Jessica Alba! A viewer gets the impression that nobody in this motley troupe was in contact with one another during shooting. The cartoonishly inept lawmen plotting to resolve the situation have a Keystone Kops thing going on, the news team broadcasting the events occupy a more cynical atmosphere, and on the scene indoors, the shooter and his bargaining chips are doing Coen brothers cosplay.
Been So Long I am of the steadfast belief that any bad movie can be improved at least slightly with the addition of musical numbers, a principle supported by this adaptation of a London stage smash. Without the occasional ditty to spice things up, this would be a standard-issue guy-meets-gal romance about a single mother trying to get back out there. While the music suffers from Repo! Burning Sands Yet another clone movie, this one retreading the stomach-churning account of hazing gone too far undertaken by Goat the previous year.
But instead of tiptoeing around the jocks, prevailing attitudes of mandated prudence mean that our boys must tiptoe around their parents, their nation, and their own guilt. The sword of Damocles finally drops when his partners turn against him, his wife sends a messenger boy to announce her request for a divorce, and his substance-based hobbies threaten to worsen into habits, all on the same Monday. In America, it feels like the Sundance-industrial complex gives us another one of these every couple of years. He casts a bold silhouette as the image of gallantry, oftentimes to disbelief-testing extents.
Did he really wait to deflower his teen bride, played by a poorly utilized Florence Pugh, until she was ready to give her consent? Mackenzie wants us to gawp at his lengthy tracking shots and flaming catapult, but the bouquet of loose screw-ups has a way of holding the attention. The resulting uproar destroyed treasured relationships and put him through a great test of faith in line with Christian lore, and director Joshua Marston chooses to relate this with all the dramatic nuance of a Lifetime Original Movie.
Not even a sensitive turn as an AIDS-positive organist from the unerring Lakeith Stanfield can earn this film salvation. The Killer And now for something completely different: a Western by way of Brazil, where a scar-faced killer those excited for a film about Spanish bullfighters are in for a rude awakening plays the cowboy liberating a dusty village from a ruthless capitalist. Diogo Morgado cuts a commanding figure as our man Shaggy, a couple notches closer to feral than the usual gunslinger.
The Warning Spanish filmmaker Daniel Calparsoro could have a long career ahead of him in Hollywood, where they crank out ambitious but imperfect conceptual thrillers like this one by the bushel. To work off his debt, Gudio joins the shadowy league of collectors and rapidly learns the ropes of a dishonest yet highly seductive profession where all rules have a bit of wiggle room. The painterly photography has been supplanted by the flatness of prestige TV, and the long, pensive gaps in which viewers were once free to appreciate the rustling of tree branches or distant chiming of bells are now filled with meaningless exposition.
Formulaic as his handiwork may be, director Julien Leclerq has his head on straighter than his characters, moving his minute run time at a swift clip with a few Mannly action sequences. A national cinema once limited by censorship and old-fashioned ideas about propriety is now exploring new sexual frontiers, this romantic anthology being a bracingly blunt case in point. Behold, the first onscreen appearance of a vibrator in the history of Indian film!
Four separate stories revolve around women in various states of dissatisfaction — carnal, sure, but more frequently emotional. A lot of the comedy errs on the side of the sophomoric, with one randy set piece taking cues from the risible The Ugly Truth , but what this effort represents still counts for quite a bit. Witnessing one such distressing occurrence claim the life of his sister stays with August Khalil Everage permanently, afflicting him with agoraphobia well-suited to his fledgling career as a bedroom beatmaker. Imperial Dreams A curious specimen, this film was made and released in two dramatically different worlds.
When the picture first premiered at Sundance in , John Boyega was another handsome young Brit with a lot of promise and a stare capable of cutting metal. By the time Netflix unveiled it in , he was an A-lister with a leading role in the biggest blockbuster franchise on the planet. Not an easy sit by any measure, but director Sudabeh Mortezai maximizes the pain to unclear ends, drawing all the dread out from an upsetting rape scene early on until it feels like horror cinema and not in the good way.
The Angel By , tensions along the Egyptian-Israeli border had escalated to powder-keg levels, and a violent engagement was all but imminent. This true-to-life thriller contemplates the answer and settles somewhere between the two in a conflicted character study that resists simple heroism. If only director Ariel Vromen had put a little more oomph in the scenes where things happen and sunk less time into scenes in which people talk about things happening.
What could have been an amoral romp in the vein of American Made lands in a more subdued, inert mode, never quite reveling in its own misdeeds. Solo All right, cards on the table, Netflix. Two days later, this Spanish tribute to real-life perseverance popped up under a nearly identical title. Kidnapping Stella Sometimes, the less said in a movie, the better. Striking all dialogue can force a plateauing filmmaker to get back to basics and relearn how to convey information visually, through camerawork, editing, and the choices of the actors. Director Thomas Sieben applies a zero-fat, economical style to the Stockholm Syndrome thriller, until the perpetrators get talking and turn from wraithlike presences into regular guys.
The retelling of one Irish U. That results in a weird dissonance, where the film works as a discrete whole but fails on a scene-by-scene basis. The ensuing dash to get the sinewy hellion back in his container drably shuffles through its action sequences and has a, shall we say, utilitarian relationship to language. Tallulah Former Orange Is the New Black writer Sian Heder tries her hand behind the camera for this study in contrasts about three women all chafing under the demands of motherhood in their own way. In the title role, Ellen Page is a street urchin feeling lost after her good-for-nothing boyfriend abandons her, but finds new meaning in life when fate puts a helpless infant in her custody.
Well-measured restraint improves the acting across the board, which in turn keeps this film away from the treacly sentiment that occasionally rears its weepy head.
- Discovering Reality?
- When the Salesman Comes to Call: Unethical Selling.
- Sweet Harmony (Mills & Boon Love Inspired).
Janney takes it in a walk, naturally. Targarona has a perceptible admiration for Boix and the bravery required to surreptitiously document some of the most heinous crimes against humanity that history has ever seen. Targarona, a veteran of the Spanish film industry, has earned the right to have a little more faith in herself.
The Titan Sam Worthington is one of those actors whose blank expression and generically handsome features make him the perfect candidate to portray a robot. See also: Emily Ratajkowski, Jamie Dornan. Forestalling the inevitable, this sci-fi thought exercise gets near the mark by casting Worthington as something other than human — in this case, the next stage in evolution.
The film lacks focus, however, glancing past a number of thoughtful paths in an effort to simultaneously take all of them. Pickpockets Those small-time hoodlums rationalizing theft as a victimless crime often tend to not realize that after long enough, they will become the real victims. A sense of coiled-spring energy and an emphasis on the fascinating nuts and bolts of ripping strangers off can make a hundred-dollar job feel as exciting as a bank heist, both for us and the purloiners onscreen, who steal for the sheer rush as much as the money. Director Peter Webber is never better than when exalting in the kinetic glory of petty larceny, his camera as weightless and carefree as its subjects, but the need to impose an arc on their lifestyle mucks up the merrymaking.
The arrival of an elder mentor in misdemeanors steers the younger leads to betrayal, jealousy, and internal conflict, all of which makes for adequate drama at the price of the poetry-in-motion exhilaration of their earlier cooperation. Emmet Walsh could be altogether bad. Still, the script arrives at the same inevitable endpoint as any other movie about someone avenging a loved one.
You know the old saying — before you embark upon a journey of revenge, dig two graves. The hole acts as a statement bangle for the film, a pop of difference standing out from the sameness. Terron leaves his fellow middle-schoolers in the dust on the basketball court, and before long, a coach Josh Charles from an elite private academy headhunts him for their team.
Jane Jacobs’s Street Smarts | The New Yorker
Koo misses the three, but sinks the layup. The grainy mm. He gives a much better showing than the rest of the movie deserves, the room-temperature casserole of saccharine little-kid antics and uncanny-valley-plumbing CGI elves that it is. The Italian case of Stefano Cucchi, dramatized in this work of righteous outrage by Alessio Cremonini, sounds all too familiar: After getting apprehended by the feared martial peacekeeping force known as the Carabinieri on a minor drug-possession charge and held in custody, the young infrastructure worker was winnowed down to a malnourished husk of himself, beaten, and ultimately killed.
I sincerely wish the best of luck to open-minded viewers making heads or tails of this, but anyone put off by obtuseness may wind up wanting their minutes back. Steel Rain Japanese anxiety over the devastation of the atomic bomb gave us Godzilla, and now the ongoing nuclear tensions between North and South Korea have yielded this jittery, paranoid missile thriller.
The Discovery In the vast gulf between conception and execution, we have this down-tempo thought experiment from Charlie McDowell. In a world where Robert Redford has conclusively proven the existence of an idyllic afterlife, the suicide rate has mushroomed. Jason Segel and Rooney Mara are strangers with a mysterious attraction and conflicting opinions about what to do with this frightening new frontier.
Director Anne Fletcher and screenwriter Kristin Hahn placed themselves in an advantageous position by building their adaptation of a YA smash around the music and philosophy of Her Dollyness, an idol to plus-size Willowdean Danielle MacDonald. She wants to teach her negligent mother Jennifer Aniston, bringing it a lesson by winning the beauty pageant that occupies her every waking moment, and the baldly stated moral of body acceptance is all well and good. The Laws of Thermodynamics Screenwriters are always trying to impose reason on the thorny tangle of contradictions that is love, but Spanish genre tinkerer Mateo Gil does so with more studied rigor.
His script proposes that the laws of physics governing the chaotic movement of subatomic particles and the delicate space-time continuum can also be applied to the bonds between people. Gil brings a zingy, Gondry-esque energy to his experiment in bridging the gap between the mind and the soul, but his characters nonetheless possess all the pathos of a textbook word problem.
What the urbanist and writer got so right about cities—and what she got wrong.
It starts with mommy dearest Marisa Paredes dying, and her four daughters convening for the first time in a long time. Their late mom informs the adult sisters that the man they know as father did not personally sire them, setting off a search for the five men responsible for their conceptions. The family that divulges hair-curlingly frank erotic specifics together, stays together. In this daft laugher from across the pond, Julian Barratt plays the washed-up Thorncroft in the present day, as he shills his way through middle-age in humbling commercial spots.
He gets a shot at redemption when a homicidal maniac demands the police put him in contact with the real Mindhorn, and much to the displeasure of his real-cop partners, Thorncroft gets back into character.
Barry Barack Obama is the coolest commander-in-chief to have ever graced the Oval Office — this is fact. Remember back when those were qualities the president had? A Kickstarter campaign to drum up a budget outlined a daring plan to shoot guerrilla-style inside of real moments as they unfold: a bustling EDM music festival, protests and riots in the wake of the Parisian terrorist attacks on Charlie Hebdo and the Bataclan.
This two-hander drama is situated at the inevitable point where sickness bleeds over into the more meaningfully personal — friends, romantic relationships, family. Over the course of one evening, grueling even at a brief 71 minutes, she goes from tough-love counselor to enabler as she helps Seth score to keep him from dying of withdrawal.