Brahms: The Boy II is a lazy sequel.
The Call of the Wild proved to be an outdoor adventure worth going on, and I can’t help but think my 10-year-old self would have seen this in the theatre a good half-dozen times if my parents would have permitted me to do so.
The Lodge is powerfully haunting stuff, things building to a climactic turn of events that are as shocking as they are in some ways equally warranted.
The final third is a massive disaster that’s bewildering in its narrative ineptitude, and as I sat there in the theatre I was dumbfounded how those involved with Fantasy Island thought any of this was a going to play even reasonably well with a paying audience.
VFW is a cracking thriller, its pulse-pounding theatrics making this an agreeably bruising good time I loved every single gosh darn blood-soaked second of.
I cannot get angry or feel let down by what Downhill is not (most obviously that it isn’t as deep or as profound as Force Majeure was). I can only judge the film for what it actually is, and on that front I think Faxon and Rash have done a reasonably nice job.
The first narrative feature to be allowed to shoot inside the Olympic Athletes Village, Olympic Dreams is a strong, emotionally-pure indie drama that took my breath away.
Portrait of a Lady on Fire is more than a historical romance. It is more than a feminist drama drawing a metaphorical line from the distant past to the here and now.
While Sonic the Hedgehog didn’t win me over, I sure as heck was never so annoyed that I regretted giving the film a look.