Keep the fan boys happy, get Chris Pratt a fourth franchise to carry and provide some retroactive enjoyment to Raiders instead of taking a Phantom Menace like dump on it.
A bit of fond remembrance from director John Boorman that does not include a flying stone head.
I suppose you’d have to be crazy to like Catch-22, but then if you’re crazy, who cares what you think? I guess that’s the catch.
Stuart Gordon’s other H.P. Lovecraft adaptation seems to have snuck in under my radar…14 years ago.
Thoughts on two winners you’ll have forgotten won by the time you’re done reading this.
Allow us to win your Oscar pool for you.
In which I suffer the slings and arrows of John Carter, Disney’s ludicrous adaptation of Edgar Rice Burroughs’s A Princess of Mars, for your amusement and edification.
Two thirds of the Flight of The Conchords fellas team up with some other funny New Zealanders, drink the blood of innocents, crack jokes. You will like it.
In Leviathan, we are either killed by innocence or corruption. The choice is yours.
In which Lost Soul: The Doomed Journey…, a new documentary on the making of The Island of Dr. Moreau, and other chronicles of mad jungle adventures are thunk upon.
Hipster mocks hipsters. Universe implodes. Mild laughs ensue.
In which we discuss these two ’60s westerns oft-cited as the original acid westerns, and wonder whether “acid western” is indeed a genre.
Weng Weng’s fighting style is mostly a blend of hiding behind things and sliding along the floor like Tom Cruise in his underpants.
The Soviet Union was a strange place. Strange to anyone who didn’t live there, and, I’d have to expect, strange to those who did.