Y’all know, when I was in the screening for Hampstead, maybe around 20 minutes in I was ready to be hating it. Like, it falls into this trap that so many cosy movies do of creating this aesthetic representation of ideal poorness.
In a way the least interesting thing about Stockholm, My Love is the film itself. As one of Mark Cousins’ essay pieces it has a soft easygoing gentility to it. You sorta wanna watch it lying down, or maybe in a relaxation tank just somewhere where you don’t have to worry about keeping your neck lifted at the screen for the images to come and wash over you.
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.
Well, it ain’t the hagiography that I feared it would be. After all that ‘greatest Briton’ nonsense the trailer be throwing out there it a wonderful surprise to see the portrait of a belligerent, castrated old man sacking everyone around him off in his futile attempt to lead a military campaign that gets pulled off just fine without him.
Diary of a Wimpy Kid: The Long Haul is bad, broken, frustrating and pretty much written off as a lost cause by everyone involved.
It’s been maybe the poorest week for film all year. Some good films came out too, but the art houses and the multiplexes all full of shit.
Time to add Alex Kurtzman to our list of babyman directors. The director of The Mummy has only a single other directing credit to his name, the sorta forgettable family drama People Like Us. Course you’d give him control of the $125 million Tom Cruise action tentpole joint that’s also supposed to be the launching… Continue reading The Mummy Review – Pan, pan, pan