Weepy, timeless love stories are what Nicholas Sparks does best, and the screen adaptation of his novel Nights in Rodanthe lives up to the writer's literary stylings.
Ghost Town follows Bertram Pincus (Ricky Gervais), the quintessential snide, cynical jerk who, after a glitch during a routine colonoscopy, dies for seven minutes.
Sugar & Spice
2001
I have a confession. I often find myself sucked into ABC Family's weekend movie marathons while channel surfing, and this weekend was no different.
Just in case someone forgot that he's a bad motherfucka, Samuel L. Jackson's New Years' resolution in 1998 was to "continue to kick ass." In the decade since, he's appeared in the quintessential badass role in basically every movie he could fit into: a fast-action FBI agent in Snakes on a Plane, a no-bullshit man of God in Black Snake Moan.
Consider the assaultive title just the tip of the big screwed-up iceberg that is Towelhead, Alan Ball's disturbing portrait of a 13-year-old Lebanese-American girl's coming-of-age in a Texas suburb during the Gulf War.
Don’t tell anyone, but National Treasure is one of my favorite movies. I conveniently “forget” to mention it when asked to list my all-time favorites, and no evidence of my love for the historical-fiction-film-slash-action-movie-slash-crime-caper can be found amongst my possessions.
Day 1
Feel like I am in an episode of Entourage. It was hard to appreciate the enormity of this festival last night, when I was wandering through the central Palais, my head fuzzy with jetlag.
Don't tell anyone, but National Treasure is one of my favorite movies. I conveniently "forget" to mention it when asked to list my all-time favorites, and no evidence of my love for the historical-fiction-film-slash-action-movie-slash-crime-caper can be found amongst my possessions.
Day 1
Feel like I am in an episode of Entourage. It was hard to appreciate the enormity of this festival last night, when I was wandering through the central Palais, my head fuzzy with jetlag.
Dear James,
I'll never forget the first time I saw you. You were walking on hind legs, striding across the screen as a Mr. Tumnus so good-looking, C.S.
A few months ago I took on the (ultimately unfortunate) assignment of reviewing Michael Haneke's own remake of his brilliant 1997 commentary, Funny Games.
Were Stanley Kramer alive today, he would have loved Tom McCarthy's The Visitor. Indeed, it resembles many of the Big Issue films of the mid-twentieth century.