McQueen is the Kid, a young card player who believes he is the best in the country. Edward G. Robinson is the Man, the aging veteran that McQueen must knock off his pedestal. McQueen is cocky, confident, appealing, and fundamentally decent; Robinson is complex and opaque, with one of the greatest poker faces in cinema. The inevitable showdown between the two is a battle of wills and nerve which lasts a night, most of the next day and another night.
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Sadly, all the thrills to be had in Physical Evidence are found on its cover. Put simply, it's one of the lamest and least compelling courtroom dramas ever to hit the screen. Burt Reynolds (as the ultimately stereotyped retired, alcoholic cop) is only half the problem. It's author Michael Crichton, directing would would be his last film (at least up to now), who obviously saw reason to throw in the towel after this nightmare.
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And so it did to Mike Nichols and Buck Henry, collaborators on The Graduate who conspired once again to make one of the greats of cinema. While Catch-22 has none of the cachet of other war movies (and we'll get to that...), it's by far one of the best out there, ranking with Platoon, Full Metal Jacket, and Apocalypse Now as one of the greats.
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The Guardians return two months after their epic battle against Ronan with their criminal records erased