Peter Greene

Peter Greene

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Picture - Peter Greene New York City, USA, Wednesday 21st July 2010

Peter Greene Wednesday 21st July 2010 2010 Manhattan Film Festival - Screening of Poetry Man at Symphony Space New York City, USA

The Bounty Hunter Review


OK
Aniston and Butler mysteriously rustle up just enough chemistry in this simplistic rom-com to make it enjoyable. We never really like their characters, but some of the film's contrived situations are genuinely funny.

Nicole (Aniston) is a New York journalist who's so busy with a breaking story that she neglects to turn up for a court date and ends up on the bail-jumper list of bounty hunter Milo (Butler), her ex-husband. Their stormy marriage didn't last long, and Milo is happy for the chance to get some revenge. But he's being chased by the goons (Coster and Garland) of an Atlantic City loan shark (Moriarty). Meanwhile, Nicole also has a lovelorn colleague (Sudeikis) and a vicious henchman (Greene) after her.

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Picture - Peter Greene New York City, USA, Tuesday 16th March 2010

Peter Greene Tuesday 16th March 2010 Premiere of 'The Bounty Hunter' at Ziegfeld Theatre - Arrivals New York City, USA

The Bounty Hunter Trailer


Watch the trailer for The Bounty Hunter

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Clean, Shaven Review


Excellent
Faster than you can say, "Toys in the attic," it becomes painfully apparent that Peter Winter (Peter Greene -- Zed from Pulp Fiction), the main character of Lodge H. Kerrigan's new film, is not quite right.

Clean, Shaven is a brief but extremely powerful look at a page from the life of a schizophrenic who is on a quest to see his daughter who has been taken from him. Peter's mental illness, we discover, is a little more than a small problem, creating in him a near-constant need to be clean and free of body hair. Throughout the film, Peter is constantly shaving, in an attempt to rid himself of the "receiver and transmitter" that he believes are housed within his body.

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Scenes of the Crime Review


Weak
Tip for those of you who want to make a gangster thriller flick: Don't set it largely in a van parked outside a dingy deli. Not really the glamor scene you're looking for, even if you do have perennial actor's actor Jeff Bridges trapped in back. While this cat and mouse game is woefully lacking in grandeur and carries few surprises in its plot, it's got a few goodish performances and soliloquys that make the two hours something better than truly awful.

Blue Streak Review


Grim
Typecasting. Definition, when writers pigeonhole you into one role, assuming you can do nothing more than that. However, typecasting is not just a product of the writers. It is not just a product of your Hollywood image. It's a product of what you choose to do.

Case in point Martin Lawrence, whose new movie Blue Streak seems like a carbon copy of his last one, Nothing to Lose. The jokes work off of the same punch line, the scenes seems stolen from one another. Everything is placed towards a completely predictable ending.

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Clean, Shaven Review


Excellent
Faster than you can say, "Toys in the attic," it becomes painfully aware that Peter Winter (Peter Greene -- Zed from Pulp Fiction), the main character of Lodge H. Kerrigan's new film, is not quite right.

Clean, Shaven is a brief but extremely powerful look at a page from the life of a schizophrenic who is on a quest to see his daughter who has been taken from him. Peter's mental illness, we discover, is a little more than a small problem, creating in him a near-constant need to be clean and free of body hair. Throughout the film, Peter is constantly shaving, in an attempt to rid himself of the "receiver and transmitter" that he believes are housed within his body.

Continue reading: Clean, Shaven Review

Shadow Hours Review


Unbearable
Bad movies described as "a swift descent into sinful pleasure, decay, and debauchery" are hard to watch. Bad 2000s movies that resemble bad 1980s films are even harder to watch. Shadow Hours falls into the latter category, a mish-mashed train wreck of B-movie actors (including Michael Dorn, aka Star Trek's Worf), an uninteresting plot, vain attempts at capitalizing on the "underground" scenes of seedy Los Angeles, and really, really bad directing and horrendous music video-esque ballistic editing that was taught to me in film school right before I decided to drop out.

The film revolves around the life of Michael Holloway (Balthazar Getty) who is trying to restart his life with his one-dimensional wife Chloe (Rebecca Gayheart) after a nasty bout of drug and alcohol addictions. Michael takes a job of working the graveyard shift at the local gas station and is bombarded by the ugliness and weirdness of the nightlife of L.A. One night, he meets a strange gent named Stuart (Mr. Buckaroo Banzai, Peter Weller). He drives a Porsche, smokes French cigarettes, and drones on about life, eventually coaxing Mike into exploring the "underbelly" of L.A. together, a tour of punk bars, S&M clubs, and bare-knuckle fights.

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The Rich Man's Wife Review


OK
There are a couple of rules inherent to the thriller that any filmmaker should be aware of. First, you have to keep the pace moving so fast that the audience doesn't have time to think about whodunit. And second, if you kill off most of the cast, whoever's left alive at the end of the movie is the one who did the killing.

The Rich Man's Wife blindly ignores both of these rules, but still manages to float, thanks to a united effort by an exceptional cast and exquisite production values. Amy Holden Jones directs her own screenplay here, a modern-day reworking of Hitchcock's masterful Strangers on a Train.

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Shadow Hours Review


Unbearable

In "Shadow Hours" -- a bottom-feeder shocksploitation flick full of vapid, infernal biblical metaphors -- writer-director Isaac Eaton expects the audience to identify with a worthless, weak-willed, reprobate recently out of rehab who abandons his gorgeous, loyal, pregnant wife to follow a rich stranger into a hellish fantasy version of L.A.'s seamy underbelly.

Balthazar Getty -- the poor man's Charlie Sheen -- stars as an grumpy skid row gas jockey working the graveyard shift when a mysterious slickster (Peter Weller) pulls up in a Porsche, dark sunglasses and a $2,000 suit. He's looking for some gritty, down-and-out soul to torture as a "research assistant" on a book, apparently about the joys of social malignancy.

Soon Weller is dragging our complaisant hero around to strip bars, drug dens, graphically depicted S&M dungeons and dingy basements where they bet on bloody bare-knuckle brawls. But even after finding himself utterly appalled by his experiences, Getty's pump attendant -- already sickened by daily exposure to the dregs of humanity at his ghetto gas station -- continues to ride shotgun for the mystery man night after night.

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Blue Streak Review


Weak

There seems to be an unwritten rule that movies starring ex-stand-up comedians must come to a grinding halt at some point for the star to have a vanity improv scene.

Every Robin Williams has such moments -- even his syrupy, sentimental pictures. Every Martin Lawrence movie does too. In "Blue Streak," the improv moment comes when Lawrence dons a nappy pigtails wig, gnarly false teeth, body padding and a velour jogging suit to pose as a hyperactive pizza delivery boy.

For that one scene, any common sense regarding the story is put on pause and Lawrence cuts loose with an epileptic booty bump dance and a lot of babbling smack, all of which is designed to produce seat-bouncing laughs (it doesn't), but has little to do with the movie.

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Peter Greene

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