It’s also one of the most ‘Italian’ films I’ve ever seen; passionate, satirical, and sumptuous.
The Book Thief fails to weave the intimate magic on the page into a moving screen story. Instead of being warmed around this campfire you feel distant and cold; emotionally mute.
Scorsese’s mastery is undeniable; The Wolf of Wall Street is yet another magnum opus.
Four old friends behaving badly in Vegas for a bachelor party; ladies and gentlemen Last Vegas is The HangOLDER.
Amongst Scorsese’s swirling choreography and furiously kinetic energy, at the core of it all is DiCaprio – a king presiding over the world he has built for himself.
There just aren’t enough rooftops to shout my love for this film.
Although Scorsese overindulges as much as his subject, in the cinematic jungle The Wolf of Wall Street proves he’s still the king.
What has interested me the most about the latest film from the great writer/director duo Joel and Ethan Coen is their unique focus on such a genuine character and his bizarre series of misadventures.
Lone Survivor is writer/director Peter Berg’s best to date…
It’s becoming hard to pick McConaughey’s best performance because he outdoes himself with each new film and Dallas Buyers Club cements him as one of the greatest actors of his generation.
Anchorman 2 is louder, sillier and vastly more absurd than its now cult predecessor, but it’s also longer, so when those less successful sequences miss the mark it feels like there are yawning chasms between laughs instead of beats.
According to Saving Mr Banks the making of Mary Poppins was a healing experience for Travers and Walt Disney is practically Sigmund Freud. Of course, this is the giant spoon of sugar to help the bitter aspects of the story go down.
This film works doubly as a portrait of a writer, and how she utilised the traumas of her childhood to create something unique and imaginative, and how these beloved tales made the transition from the page to the screen, nursed by Disney studios and personally supervised by Walt Disney himself. It is quite a story.
What the American public wants in the theatre is a tragedy with a happy ending. I wish I’d thought of that line but it belongs to the author and literary critic William Dean Howell. If Mr Howell was alive today, he’d be chuffed with Joel and Ethan Coen’s Inside Llewyn Davis, a film that embraces failure in a beautiful way.
Lassester’s Bones is as much about the illumination of the myth surrounding the man as it is about man’s desire to complete the incomplete and fulfil the unfulfilled. It’s poetic, personal filmmaking.
Frozen is the kind of animated film that doesn’t feel out of place in the same sentence as the classics such as The Lion King, Beauty and the Beast or Aladdin but the delightful point of difference is that instead of damsels in distress this dynamic duo of Elsa (Idina Menzel) and Anna (Kristen Bell) are out to redefine what it means to be a Disney princess.
This is Stiller’s pièce de résistance.
Upon returning to Middle Earth you immediately feel like hanging up your cloak, grabbing a mug of ale and yelling ‘Hobbits, I’m home!’
Plenty about this film – the music, the dialogue, the subtle characterizations – has remained lingering in my mind, and that’s not something you can say about every film these days.
You want more Brick? You got it. You want more cameos? Your wish is granted. You want multiple Will Ferrell freak outs? It’s all for you loyal fan.