Jake Busey - 26th Annual Night of 100 Stars held at the Beverly Hills Hilton Hotel - Arrivals at Beverly Hilton - Beverly Hills, CA - Los Angeles, California, United States - Sunday 28th February 2016
The Reaper (Mike Michaels) was formerly an ordained minister before embarking on a rampant killing spree with a brutal murder cult that believed in the homicidal cleansing of a corrupt society. After slaughtering a handful of convicted criminals from drug dealers to prostitutes, the Reaper was imprisoned and sentenced to death by electric chair, but when a power cut thwarts his fate, he manages to make an escape from the prison. He takes to a hotel where he knows various dangerous criminals will be meeting with the intention of another crazed massacre, but when one feisty girl (Shayla Beesley) finds herself fighting for survival, she is forced to face the dread she has been trying to forget. Can the Reaper be stopped once again? Or is his presence an unshakeable force damning a crime-rife society forever?
Continue: Reaper Trailer
Wristcutters: A Love Story takes place in a barren landscape littered with the detritus of consumer culture, where the unsmiling populace eat grayish junk food, hang around dingy bars and dilapidated apartments, and listen to audio cassettes of Joy Division and Gram Parsons. Welcome to Purgatory, a drab and monotonous dead zone, appearing like a cross between the Mojave Desert and Trenton, New Jersey. This is the depository of all the unhappy folk who have offed themselves in life and are now in limbo, not quite dead but certainly no longer among the living. Dukic tells the tale in a literally deadpan style road movie, resembling a George Romeo version of The Wizard of Oz, filtered through a sardonic sensibility; a quieter, gentler version of the Dylan song "Ain't Talkin'" or Cormac McCarthy's The Road.
Continue reading: Wristcutters: A Love Story Review
Tomcats wins, hands-down, the lowest common denominator award so far this year. It's a trashy, sexist, crude comedy revolving around the values of commitment, honesty, and screwing your friends over for half a million dollars. In the process, it throws us numerous sex partners, Bill Maher playing a thug named Carlos, true love, and an escaping testicle.
Continue reading: Tomcats Review
But seriously, Carl Sagan's ode to the superior intelligence of aliens (and how us darned humans mess everything up) is consistently beautiful and interesting, but it never makes a point (except for that bit about the darned humans). The plot, which gives Jodie Foster schematics from space and focuses on the technical and bureaucratic minutiae that go into the construction of an extradimensional travelling device, is rather on the nose -- and the only real surprises in the film come from its obsession with God (in which the late Sagan did not believe) and the complete and utter disappointment received with the aliens are finally revealed.
Continue reading: Contact Review
Amusing enough, and a quick read. And Fast Sofa, the movie, keeps the guts of this road trip intact -- enough to realize that our pal Rick is on a real road to nowhere. Jake Busey makes for a creepy and considerably miscast hero, though Jennifer Tilly's wanton Ginger is enough fun for the both of them. Stealing the show, however, is Crispin Glover, as a shut-in sophisticate named Julian who tags along on the latter half of Rick's abortive journey. His outfit alone is reason enough to rent the tape.
Continue reading: Fast Sofa Review
Jon Favreau claims partial responsibility (as co-screenwriter) for this stumbling mess, a film that could've used dark humor and the luxury of retrospect to comment on the freakish habits of our late 1990s Internet culture. (The script, in theory at least, is based on Po Bronson's novel.) Instead, Favreau, screenwriter Gary Tieche (creator of TV's MDs), and director Mick Jackson (L.A. Story) play it as safe, as slow, and as vanilla as possible.
Continue reading: The First $20 Million Is Always The Hardest Review
After spending 90 minutes in a screening during which the highlight was a print that caught on fire and melted halfway through the performance, I'm not terribly closer to knowing myself.
Continue reading: Identity Review
As I write this, the time is 8:32 p.m. on Thursday, November 18, 2004, and I have just walked out on "Christmas With the Kranks" after roughly 45 minutes of mind-numbingly humorless, sit-com barrel-bottom idiocy.
An adaptation of John Grisham's "Skipping Christmas" that has been violently stripped of any semblance of humanity, this supposed comedy is about a couple called the Kranks (ha, ha, ha), played by Tim Allen and Jamie Lee Curtis, whose daughter won't be home for Christmas, so they choose to bow out of the festivities altogether and take a cruise. But apparently their choice amounts to a social offense of the first order in the bogus, plot-device suburbia where the movie takes place (during a transparently bogus winter). It even makes the newspaper.
Soon an army of neighbors are beating down their door like some Yuletide Gestapo, angrily demanding they put up their seasonal decorations while Curtis inexplicably cowers inside like a child.
Continue reading: Christmas With The Kranks Review
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