once the ominous atmosphere and chaotic gambling framework and high strung bright lights fade, “Ballad of a Small Player” has no hand left to play. It is at best a fun time spent with Farrell who is really going for it, but at worst it’s peak Netflix fodder fit for a lost in the shuffle queue search and almost completely overcome by the Netflix sheen that once again rears its ugly head.
There’s a collection of films that I’d count as a one and done, the kind that leave you so unnerved…
Safdie’s final product feels more self indulgent than self reflective, and approaches the material at arms length and a sort of meandering disinterest in his subject. At no point in “The Smashing Machine” does it feel like the director personally connects to his story or work, leaving the film to be a rather pedestrian sports biopic dressed up as an auteur’s vision.
“Eternity” is the perfect date night film, one you should see with the one you love, the one you can cherish now until the end and beyond. It will make you want to hold a lover close and remind you why you fell in love in the first place.
“Roofman” is a heartfelt showcase for Tatum and a light watch whose safe play and sticking to convention ends up serving as a compliment to its charm
“My Father’s Shadow” is a profound piece of cinema, a wondrous triumph and one of the best films of the year.
Adapting the works of Stephen King into feature films has been common practice for many years. Not only is he…
“Caught Stealing” feels so inconsequential and forgettable you barely remember things as they happen and it can’t seem to pair its propulsive energy with any kind of longevity or entertainment value.
“Highest 2 Lowest” is Lee at his most reflective and sentimental, using masterpiece source material to deliver a thrilling and deeply funny love letter to cinema, music, New York, creativity, legacy, and black excellence. One of the greats doing what he does best with all the love in his heart poured out in every frame.
…even at its funniest and horniest it fails to jolt any electricity into its disjointed and purposefully convoluted plot, leaving “Honey, Don’t” feeling as flat as its Bakersfield desert setting.
