Sitting down to watch Magic in the Moonlight, I’ve got my Woody Allen checklist ready: -Opening titles in white Windsor Light Condensed over a plain black background? Check. -Soundtrack drenched […]
Luc Besson’s Lucy is a movie so high off its own concept that stuff like internal logic and storytelling ends up in the backseat.
The filmmakers here tell us that it works, but that concept is the same as when your parents told you the iron was hot. You didn’t believe them until you burned your finger on it. The world-building of this movie is so lazy that anything built upon it cannot be of any substance, because the foundation is too weak.
Everyone goes through a Led Zeppelin phase, right? I’m at least sure that every unpopular white boy does, and I’m pretty sure it usually occurs in that horrible, horrible gap between when you start to hit puberty and when you start filling out college applications.
The Rover is a long, ugly slog through blood, sweat and dust.
The textbook term for this type is “jukebox musical,” I know it as Let’s Take Existing Popular Songs and Wrench a Musical Out of Them. Whatever you call it, it operates under the same purpose as trying to fit a donut through a keyhole.
If life is made up of small moments, Ida is a full-length mirror.
To talk about the plot would be wasteful, because this movie is above the very idea of serious stakes. It’s not just a self-spoof, but a spoof of the entire culture behind the grinding out of episodic film franchises.