After a teaser at the end of Darker last year which contained a whole lotta wedding footage I expected we’d at least be getting some wedding drama. I mean, whole plot points of that film revolve around two of Christian’s exes each with different scores to settle. I thought there’d at least be someone standing up at the ceremony with an outlandish objection. Maybe some last minute nerves, maybe we’d just get some nice fucking in a white dress. Apparently not, the ceremony is over before even the opening titles end. The rest of the film is sweeping up the loose ends.
This might properly hit harder for me if I had seen the other two movies. I don’t even know if acapella was even in in 2011. It must have been probably, these movies made bank.
Daddy’s Home 2 wants to be a charming inoffensive family Christmas movie. Now, when you’re judging this kinda thing you wanna take intent into account. You wanna hope that the filmmakers know what they be doing, that whatever happened they were just trying to make the best film that they possibly could. The mistakes that turn best intentions bad are often so hard to notice when you’re in the midst of things too. Perhaps you only notice in the edit that you really could have done with that shot, or what seemed fine on the page doesn’t quite scan right. Maybe it’s something as ephemeral as missing the tone you were aiming for, what could have caused that?
I am so fucking done with this type of film. Wahay, look at the excesses of American capitalism, aren’t they awesome? Look at this fucking white-ass guy with his amazing life, and his big house, and his much younger wife. He is so much better, more capable, more successful than you. Who cares if he’s breaking the law, in capitalism all you’re chasing is that almighty dollar so of course he’s justified. Watch as he outsmarts everyone around him, his co-workers, his family, the cartels, the American fucking government. They’re all trying to get a piece of the pie too so who gives a fuck?
I’m not sure what happened. I’m sure everyone’s mostly blameless. If I screwed up my job this bad I’d be fired.
Here’s a Morrissey story for you. Admittedly quite a famous one. When he was publishing his autobiography, titled Autobiography, a few years ago it was delayed due to his demand that they release it under their Classics imprint. Yeah, sure Morrissey, in one hundred years people are gonna wonder what the tempestuous life of The Smiths frontman was like. Brexit wanker.
I’ve been struggling to start my review of The Emoji Movie. It’s bad. It’s reeeaaaal bad. It’s so fucking bad. And I think that would probably be the cool way to approach it. You shouldn’t watch the The Emoji Movie because it’s shit. It’s a bad story, incredibly poorly told. It features some of the most grating and uncharismatic voice acting you’ve ever heard in one of these things. It is profoundly, profoundly unpleasant to look at for any long period of time. And despite the fact that it steals it’s every idea from a panoply of better movies not a single gram of their greatness rubs off onto it.
Johannes Roberts and Ernest Riera are men. You can tell this by their names. And also by the dialogue they give their two leads in this film. Whatever tension and thrills could have been generated by the later sequences, which I am excited to describe with such glowing terms as ‘capable’ and ‘functional’, are thoroughly skewered by the not even ten minutes spent above water at the lead.
Colin Trevorrow is one of the more uniquely incompetent filmmakers working the scene at the moment. Taking a break between the stresses of his major franchise work he decides to unleash a smaller, more personal film onto the world, the sorta joint where unconcerned by high budgets and pushy producers he can let a little more of himself seep down into the work.
It ain’t a comforting spectacle.
Slack Bay is a charming and largely inoffensive class conscious French period comedy that very much goes about its own way for the majority of its running time before making some incredibly poor decisions and collapsing under the weight of its own awfulness.