Lukas Haas - Lukas Haas dressed in army fatigues out and about in Beverly Hills walking with his hands in his pockets at beverly hills - Los Angeles, California, United States - Wednesday 9th September 2015
In a village on the edge of a dark forest, Valerie (Seyfried) lives with her loving parents (Burke and Madsen), who have arranged her marriage to the cute, soulful and wealthy blacksmith Henry (Irons). But Valerie's in love with the swarthy, soulful and poor woodcutter Peter (Fernandez). Valerie's big-eyed grandmother (Christie) offers a listening ear. But the village's strained relationship with a local werewolf flares into violence at the arrival of both a blood-red moon and the fanatical werewolf-hunter Solomon (Oldman). Could the werewolf be one of the villagers?
Continue reading: Red Riding Hood Review
Valerie is a young woman who lives in a village that has been haunted by a terrible curse, a werewolf lives in the surrounding woods and although the villagers have managed to keep his killing at bay -by providing an animal sacrifice each month- they still live with a thought of terror knowing that the wolf might once again kill a human.
Continue: Red Riding Hood Trailer
Four years later, Taylor drops another oddball flick on us, and the trouble is obvious before frame one. For starters, the name of the movie is The Darwin Awards, which sounds like it's going to be a documentary about those nutty people who kill themselves doing stupid things, thus earning posthumous "Darwin Awards" (as written up in a series of books of the same name) for ridding the gene pool of their DNA.
Continue reading: The Darwin Awards Review
That's the rub, folks: Brick, as best as you can describe it, is a postmodern mashup of a '90s teen drug drama and a '30s noir. The setup is quite straightforward: A girl named Emily (Emilie de Ravin) is dead, and her ex-boyfriend Brendan (Joseph Gordon-Levitt, who apparently can't get enough of the indie scene now) wants to find out what happened. He suspects foul play, and he launches an investigation, much like some renegade gumshoe might do, always evading the watchful eye of the chief. Only here, there's no chief, just a principal (Richard Roundtree, of all people). With the help of a brilliant colleague -- er, classmate -- Brendan starts digging into the underworld, such as it exists in a world of letter jackets and parking lot brawls. (Indeed, for all the talk of highschool, not a single class is actually attended in Brick.)
Continue reading: Brick Review
Witness The English Patient, which turned out to be filmable after all. And then there was Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, which wasn't. But maybe unfilmable is the wrong word. Breakfast of Champions might have proved filmable, but it sure isn't watchable.
Continue reading: Breakfast Of Champions Review
"Teenage angst has paid off well / Now I'm bored and old," sang Cobain on Nirvana's Serve the Servants, and one can feel that infectious malaise throughout Van Sant's portrait of Blake (Michael Pitt), a grungy icon living out what a friend (Kim Gordon) dubs "a rock and roll cliché." Donning Cobain accoutrements such as a hunter's cap and a green-and-red sweater and sporting shoulder-length blond hair, Blake spends the film sleepwalking around his backwoods home and property with a mixture of drug-addled bewilderment and spiritual melancholy, and Pitt embodies this wayward soul - whose rambling exploits involve wearing a black spaghetti-strap dress and toting a rifle - with a hunched, drooping-to-the-floor sagginess (as if under tremendous strain) that's at odds with the actor's slender physique. His constantly incomprehensible muttering, such as during an amusing, chance encounter with a telephone book salesman (where the only audible Blake line is telling: "Success is subjective"), echoes Cobain's frequently indecipherable lyrics while also conveying a torturous emotional detachment. Trapped in Van Sant's constrictive full frame (employed to heighten the oppressive claustrophobia gripping the character), Pitt's Blake is a zombie who, as revealed by the film's opening scene - finding him symbolically baptizing himself in a tree-shrouded lake, and later whispering and then roaring "Home on the Range" to the empty nighttime forest - desperately seeks communion with the world around him.
Continue reading: Last Days (2005) Review
Harrison Ford plays the cop, John Book, who heads to Lancaster County from Philadelphia after a young murder witness (Lucas Haas) identifies Book's colleague as the culprit, unveiling a departmental conspiracy. A wounded Book drives the boy and his mother (Kelly McGillis) to their farm before collapsing. With the car damaged and his superiors on the look out, Book is forced to stay with the Amish and live their lifestyle until he can get away.
Continue reading: Witness Review
The film is Mars Attacks!, and with it Tim Burton serves up the worst production of his once-blossoming career, a movie wherein he indulges every excess of his demented psyche, pays no attention to entertaining the audience, and recycles every joke he can get his hands on.
Continue reading: Mars Attacks! Review
In the vein of Jagged Edge and Basic Instinct (all Eszterhas movies, actually), we're kept guessing as to whether hedunit, only in Music Box, we couldn't care less. If the characters aren't speaking in thick, phony accents, they're speaking in foreign languages altogether -- through long, drawn-out courtroom scenes where immigrants reflect hazily on whether Armin's our man.
Continue reading: Music Box (1989) Review
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