Rosanna Arquette - Women In Film Los Angeles Celebrates The 2016 Crystal + Lucy Awards Presented by Max Mara and BMW at The Beverly Hilton - Beverly Hills, California, United States - Wednesday 15th June 2016
Mark Blum, Aidan Quinn, Desperately Seeking Susan, Rosanna Arquette and Susan Seidelman - Mark Blum, Rosanna Arquette, Aidan Quinn, Susan Seidelman New York City, USA - 25th anniversary screening of Desperately Seeking Susan Thursday 23rd September 2010
Joe Dirt was meant to be redemption for my miserable years at the hands of these greasy, ignorant tormentors. But then 30 minutes went by and the movie took a sharp left into saps-ville, crashing and burning like a 74 'Cuda wrapped around an oak tree. Oh well.
Continue reading: Joe Dirt Review
Let the record also state that, while watching a bad movie, I either carry a scribble pad or make mental notes of possible pot shots that I can shoot off at the movie in my review. Since I am afforded no "possible insult" rating system, I translate the pot shots into stars. For about every ten easy insults a film gives me, I subtract a star from its rating (barring Airplane!, which is designed to cooperate with the pot shot system and thus is immune to its barbs). The Whole Nine Yards gave me thirteen pot shots. Rounding, we get our current star rating.
Continue reading: The Whole Nine Yards Review
Crash is one of the more disturbing movies I've seen in my lifetime, and although I enjoyed it on an aesthetic level, I find it difficult to recommend to the masses, and I think you'll see why in a minute.
Continue reading: Crash (1997) Review
Continue reading: The Big Blue Review
By the end, Paul is on the run from an angry mob who thinks he's a burglar, fleeing in fear for his life. Will he escape? Well, rest assured that After Hours is actually a comedy. It's also one of my favorite Martin Scorsese movies (and a massive departure from his grittier fare), fresh every time you see it and full of little touches that you catch more of with each subsequent viewing. Check out the rows of Aqua Net in Garr's apartment. Or the "tie" she's wearing.
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As a woman, it is always difficult to watch a movie involving rape. When filmed realistically, as Things is, it's impossible to distance yourself from the onscreen pain. And when a film is not constructed with realism the result is anger from shoddy storytelling, or with a filmmaker failing miserably to grasp the emotional honesty in a situation they can't understand.
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And what a surprise. It starts out sleepily enough, with a stereotypical Wall Street stockbroker named Ryan (Sheen) who cheats on his advice-columnist girlfriend Cindy (Denise Richards, now engaged to Sheen in real life), and resorts to insider trading to further his career. But he sleeps with the wrong woman and finds his career suddenly ended. Soon after that, Cindy dumps him for another guy and sticks him with the rent when she jets off for Brazil. Very morose so far, with no likable characters -- what a comedy!
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Deceiver may not be the latest in this trend of trying to trick us, but it is, like most of them, incredibly easy to predict. You see, when you've watched enough movies, you become immune to their tricks. You see through them, know the killer ten seconds in from their first facial expressions.
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This set of interlocking tales involving gangsters, boxers, druggies, and plain old joes is alternately exciting and funny -- and often both at the same time. Whether it's John Travolta's Vincent Vega doing the twist with his gangster boss's wife and later miraculously pulling her out of a drug overdose, Samuel L. Jackson reciting the Bible or picking splattered brain out of his enormous afro, Tim Roth and Amanda Plummer robbing a diner, Bruce Willis throwing a boxing match and later ending up facing a couple of oversexed hillbilly degenerates, or Ving Rhames overseeing the whole proceedings, the movie is utterly brilliant, hilarious, and thrilling. Even the little things are perfect: Tarantino has never since quite managed to recapture his masterful use of the close-up and fantastically interesting lighting choices. It's one of only a handful of films that gets better every time you watch it.
Continue reading: Pulp Fiction Review
Leon is a shiftless alcoholic, though obviously still a talented writer with his mixture of adjective clauses and ability to envelop anyone around him into an environment he is describing. He's separated from his wife (Debra Winger) with whom he had two children, and he has difficulty playing the part of father, even as he tries to win back his ex-wife's affections.
Continue reading: Big Bad Love Review
"Sugar Town" is a hastily thrown-together, satirical showbiz dramedy concerning washed up '80s rock stars learning generic life lessons about responsibility, trust, fidelity and aging gracefully, and it wouldn't be interesting at all if it didn't feature a curiously appropriate cast.
John Taylor (late of Duran Duran), Michael Des Barres (The Power Station), Martin Kemp (Spandau Ballet) and John Doe (X) are all uniquely qualified for their roles as four former pop icons trying to stage a comeback with a new band and lousy record no label will touch.
One has become a semi-rural family man, tempted to go back on the road (and to cheat on his pregnant wife) by a sexy Tejano singer (Lumi Cavazos). Another has an acrid, 11-year-old punk in bad '80s make-up (what 11-year-old boy wears makeup?) left on his doorstep by a groupie who claims he's the father. Another has become a small-time drug dealer, and the last is desperately clinging to his faded sex appeal, not realizing how pathetic he looks to the 19-year-old girls he comes on to in bars.
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Congratulations Matthew Perry, for being the second member of the "Friends" cast (after Lisa Kudrow) to find a big screen starring vehicle that's actually funny.
A screwball comedy of compounding complexity, "The Whole Nine Yards" casts Perry as Nicholas "Oz" Oseransky, a miserably married Montreal suburbanite whose nervous nature kicks into overdrive when a mafia turncoat known as Jimmy The Tulip -- a hitman so cool he's played by Bruce Willis -- moves in next door, looking for a little R and R after ratting out the mob.
When Jimmy wants to be pals, it's an offer Oz thinks he'd better not refuse, but he sweats bullets reading Scorsese-movie innuendo into every innocuous thing his neighbor says, like "Let's go for a drive." Yikes!
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A giant metaphor for freedom and self-discovery, directed by a young Luc Besson who had yet to discover his self-indulgent streak, "The Big Blue" is a visceral and turbulent, yet strangely tranquil and beautiful cinematic experience that plumbs the souls of a pair of competitive deep-sea divers who are at once best friends and bitter rivals.
Made in 1988 and reissued this summer in a 40-minutes-longer director's cut, it's one of those rare films you can't help but be affected by on some level. Its vivid photography and even more vivid performances strike a nerve as the film follows the warm but antagonistic friendship between bombastic Enzo (a pre-"Professional" Jean Reno) and quiet, private and deeply reflective Jacques (a pre-"Zentropa" Jean-Marc Barr) beginning with their shared childhood in a craggy, cliff-side, coastal Greek hamlet.
Years later they meet again and form a powerful bond and a dangerous rivalry after discovering they're both record-setting divers who can hold their breaths for super-human lengths of time and plunge to unimaginable depths in professional diving competitions around the Mediterranean.
Continue reading: The Big Blue Review
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