He was so far gone into the worlds his characters inhabited that it was the only way to get any insight into the portly, ginger NY man behind all these faces. If there’s anything we’ve learnt about him since it’s quite simple: Hoffman was a person getting by in this brief life with enough courage to make his mark in his chosen field of acting…
With any film of an obvert and bleak sexual nature there’s a risk that the sex scenes will overpower the rest of the film for the audience due to the graphic content presented. If one is willing to look past this there does an incredibly beautiful film that exists in the space in-between.
In a perfect world such a business would be stopped but in the for-profit universe that SeaWorld operates, one fears her words will endlessly revolve in an echo chamber instead.
Directed by Sir Ridley Scott and starring five of the biggest actors in recent years, McCarthy’s script plays out like someone who has never read a 101 manual on screenwriting before. It’s a daring piece that breaks all the rules we’ve come to expect and should be appreciated as such. The story is a familiar one—drug deal gone bad—but the consequent playing out isn’t so familiar, more a hashing of regret.
Fruitvale Station is the tale behind a very real video that would otherwise go ignored by the greater populace. It humanises these blunt pixels and creates a meaning behind the loud bam that ultimately ended the life of a man that’s doing what we’re all doing in this life: just trying to get by and support his loved ones.
Frank Zappa once remarked in 1989 “it isn’t necessary to imagine the world ending in fire or ice – there are two other possibilities: one is paperwork, and the other is nostalgia.” Equal parts prophetic and overtly dramatic, it’s an idea that has certainly rung true. Especially when considering the last twenty years of cinema: remakes have ruled and endless sequels have been the candy for the major studio’s craving of bacon.
Prisoners attempts to be some kind of family drama that rolls in the same moral quagmire as Taxi Driver and positions Keller as if John Rambo was ever a family man living out in suburbia Pennsylvania.
Outside of the die-hards though, very little is on offer.
In the space of a couple of weeks, cinemas will play host to two films of a very similar nature: A Hijacking and Captain Phillips. Both films concern the, well, hijacking of a freighter by Somali pirates. But this synopsis is where the sameness ends. Both succeed for different reasons and both endings will leave you jaw agape, writhing on the floor in shock
Stories We Tell is the latest from Canadian filmmaker Sarah Polley and serves as a rather impressive testament to the nature behind how we tell stories.
What is it with Korean romantic comedies? Even in their most banal, manipulative, nonsensical state they still manage to out-everything that Hollywood attempts to shove down our collectively willing throats.
I was able to firmly smash my Korean cinema cherry once and for all.
The result is far from disastrous. It’s just incredibly dull.
A grandmother wakes early in the morning and observes herself in the mirror. She pulls at the crows feet firmly embedded at the corners of her eyes. Disgusted with her sagging skin and failing features, she waits for life to pass her by.
[A]fter you’ve acknowledged “wow, that really does look like him” an eerieness starts to pervade: it’s just Ashton Kutcher with a beard.
Take advantage of this special offer in a cinema while you can—chances are we won’t see something on such a grand scale for a long time again.
The issue here isn’t that the trailer was misleading but the opening twenty minutes was. The Occupy movement is worthy of the big screen treatment and everything hinted at this being the answer. Instead we’re offered a b-grade sci-fi action movie that doesn’t pursue the very questions it asks in the beginning.
Embrace the Bayhem, if you can.
If there’s an ending, it’s that these three black American teens finally had the record no one wanted in 1974 released worldwide in 2009 to mass critical acclaim.
[Coppola] just wants to show the Bling Ring for who they are: bored, over-entitled teenagers. It’s the nightclub sequences that show this off the most; endless selfies of the group drenched in stolen property for their facebook accounts, dancing under the influence of expensive alcohol bought with stolen money.