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The only thing missing from Dreamworks’ new film Penguins of Madagascar is sanity. But we don’t go to watch a film about characters set in the Madagascar universe expecting logic. So when an octopus yells at his harmoniously compliant servants:
Every year when Oscar season rolls around I become an increasingly cynical person. I stop enjoying the movies I’m watching and instead start to tick off the list of tropes I see in a game I like to call “Oscar-bait Bingo.” In the coming months, cinema screens worldwide will be treated to my two least favorite Oscar-baiting sub-genres:
It seems to happen far too often: A new, original comedy premieres, to mostly good reviews, and so the studio decides to seize on the original’s success and create a sequel. And the sequel is not nearly as good as the first.
Michael Keaton is one of those “If only he was given a chance, he could have done great things” type of guys. Edward Norton is one of those “If he could just suck it up and take other people’s advice he could be one of the biggest stars in the world” type of guys. This is no secret to us and it is certainly no secret to Alejandro González Iñárritu, who takes full advantage of our outside knowledge to create the only slightly twisted reality of Birdman.
Christopher Nolan has made a solid place for himself in the rank of modern filmmakers. His latest film, Interstellar, further establishes his stance. It is a wondrously beautiful movie, with intense sci-fi sequences, a solid and talented cast, and even some thought-provoking ideas.
Big Hero 6 takes the cultural stereotypes of the East and West, smashes them together to a fine powder, and fabricates from it a 100-minute ride that is so eye-poppingly pretty, so gently moving and so explosively inventive that it’s the most unabashed, jolting fun you’ll have at the movies this year. Even after turning out two very strong features like Wreck-it Ralph and Frozen, Disney proves once again that its capability to push boundaries of imagination is strengthening by each passing endeavor. Disney at its absolute peak Based on a Marvel comic, directors Don Hall and Chris Williams gather the immense arsenal of talent at Disney to conjure up on screen the beautiful cherry-bomb of a city called San Fransokyo – a hybrid mash-up of the architectural sensibilities and culture of San Francisco and Tokyo.
Nightcrawler, starring Jake Gyllenhaal, balances the crime thriller, dark comedy, and character study genres with ease. The film focuses on Louis Bloom, a mysterious young insomniac who takes to the nighttime streets of Los Angeles in an attempt to capture the most shocking breaking news. Armed with his video camera and sidekick, Rick, Louis turns real life car crashes and murders into exciting film clips to headline the morning stories.
David Ayer’s Fury is the story of an American tank unit led by “Wardaddy” (Brad Pitt) near the end of the European Theatre in World War II. Ayer is still best known for writing 2001’s Training Day, but after he made the surprisingly acclaimed End of Watch, he has been given the chance to direct a full-blown war film. Ayer’s hyper-masculine style is one that could be to the detriment of a war film that is trying to stay grounded in reality, but he is able to dial back his tendencies enough to keep it from being a glorification of violence.
A trio of rambunctious adolescents storm into a man’s house, steal his car, and then, just for the hell of it, beat his dog to death. Unbeknownst to them, the man they robbed is none other than John Wick, a former assassin who was so good at his job that he earned a nickname of “The Boogeyman.” Let’s just say that they pissed off the wrong guy.
I’ve never really understood the law. That, however, never stopped me from drooping inquisitively over courtroom dramas. With my rediscovery of A Few Good Men on TV a few months ago, this sub-genre managed to spark some affection in my geeky wonderland of a mind.
Dracula Untold tries to be a lot of different things – a PG-13 horror movie, a historical epic, a Gothic romance, a superhero origin story – and it does it all while at the same time trying to kick start an Avengers-style shared movie universe. Whether you call that ambitious or just the obvious product of too many cooks in the kitchen, it doesn’t succeed on every front. But remarkably enough, as a pure popcorn movie, it doesn’t completely fall apart, either.
If the media blitz preceding its release is anything to go by, Gone Girl is being pitched as brooding, twisty, and somewhat orthodox whodunnit. If you buy a ticket expecting just that, you won’t be disappointed. David Fincher’s film, based on Gillian Flynn’s novel of the same name, has all the shifty intricacies you’d hope for in a thriller.
A predominantly accelerated 15-year-old called William Miller (Patrick Fugit) is embarrassingly out of sync with his snarling high-school mates. His mother Elaine (Frances McDormand) is an English teacher who worries about William’s influences and invites rowdy laughter from his classmates when she shouts, “Don’t take drugs!” to him while dropping him off.
What do Fleetwood Mac, surgical mutilation and a delightfully chubby Haley Joel Osment have in common? Along with a recurring erotic nightmare of mine, Kevin Smith’s new film Tusk. Based on an episode of Smith’s long-running “SModcast,” Tusk tells the story of podcaster Wallace Bryton (Justin Long) who embarks into Manitoba on a quest for new material.
I am a member of a generation that covets nostalgia more than any that has come before it. The Internet allows us to relive our childhood memories whenever we wish. It can be comforting to look back at the cartoons you watched as a kid or be reminded of that candy you loved that has since been discontinued.