Torture is the correct term for such a movie, one that spends two hours and twenty minutes evoking boredom, yawns, and snores from the audience. There is no kinder way to put it. However, I could be completely honest and say that this is perhaps the worst two and a half hours I have spent in a movie theatre all year... and I've seen a lot of really bad movies.
Continue reading: Random Hearts Review
I apologize in advance for the hokey dental metaphors, but I can't help myself: The incisive plot of the black comedy "Novocaine" is more decayed than a candy-addicted 10-year-old's teeth.
Driven by a conspiracy of preposterous complexity, it is mock-noirish downward-spiral drivel about a dull DDS (Steve Martin) whose too-perfect life is upended when he flips for a junkie femme fatale patient (Helena Bonham Carter). Dumbstruck by out-of-character desire that goes unexplored and unexplained, the dentist gives the burned-out babe a generous prescription of Demerol. The next day there's been a break-in at his office -- all the narcotics are gone and there's a sweater-vested DEA wonk in the waiting room.
Martin lies to protect this girl, who came to his office only once and seduced him with a toothache. Then his life starts to unravel -- starting with his engagement to his blithe but insanely obsessive-compulsive hygienist (Laura Dern). Soon he's confronting a collusion involving Bonham Carter's violent cokehead brother (Scott Caan) and his own willful slacker sibling (Elias Koteas), who has recently invited himself to crash on Martin's Italian leather sofa and pilfer from the dentist's pill box as well. But that's only the beginning of the Machiavellian machination making its way into Martin's life.
Continue reading: Novocaine Review
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