Movies
Color me surprised, this movie was good. REALLY quite good in my opinion.
When I first heard they were remaking/updating/rebooting/sequel-ing The Karate Kid, I met the news with skepticism. I react that way anytime I hear that Hollywood is remaking or rebooting anything. I was indifferent when I heard the movie would star Jackie Chan and Jaden Smith.
Fourth time's the charm.
When Shrek first came out, I had my reservations, but thought it was actually a pretty fun movie; however, I didn't care too much for the last two sequels. Shrek 2 and Shrek the Third saw the title character get married and become a father.
MacGruber!
If I really wanted to pick this movie apart I could. So in the interests of being objective I'll have a go at it.
Problem #1 -- The movie lacks heart.
White man gets sent to spy on the savage enemies. He earns their trust and falls in love with the chief's daughter. White man's army attacks the savages. The savages, and the chief's daughter feel betrayed, and want nothing to do with the white man.
Through the heart of Miami's Little Havana, SW 8th street unfolds--a paved corridor narrowed by a strip of the twenty-odd pay-by-the-hour motels stacked side by side. Fortress-like with their high walls and discrete private entrances, these motels are the ideal locale for a clandestine encounter.
If you're a regular viewer of Saturday Night Live, you're likely well aware of the recurring MacGruber sketches, which feature Will Forte as a ridiculous MacGyver-esque hero who always ends up getting blown up.
Jay Baruchel, like many young Canadian actors, got an early taste of showbiz on the 90s Nickelodeon/YTV series Are You Afraid of the Dark?, which partially filmed in his hometown of Montreal.
It had been ages since I had experienced true agitation: hands slick with perspiration, hollowed-out insides, shortness of breath, compulsive pacing. But this was the state I found myself in last Tuesday afternoon as I waited by the phone, reading and rereading my notes. I felt like I was about to perform a play with an unfinished script.
Earlier this month a little known German film opened quietly in Toronto theaters. Undoubtedly most cinemagoers felt little more than passing curiosity upon spotting its title advertised on the marquis--just another foreign film scrabbling for a foothold in the North American market. Intrinsically, The Red Baron deserves little attention.
Somewhere around mid-February a wire in my brain fried, temporarily disabling my recognition of subtleties, the nuances of bad and good -- the mechanism commonly known as taste. Eventually the coils will mend and the neurons will resume firing but for the moment I am imprisoned in a world of absolutes. Our Family Wedding is bad, unconditionally, irrefutably bad. I know that much.
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