“Hereditary” is so all over the place that it’s often incoherent.
However, it is also a disturbing horror movie with the sort of burned-in-your-brain sequences that will jolt you awake in the middle of the night.
Fittingly, the first words in the lovely new Mr. Rogers documentary are an invitation: “Come on over a minute…”
The title is an invitation, too. It’s “Won’t You Be My Neighbor?,” the musical catchphrase that opened his celebrated children’s TV program.
Of course, calling “Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood” a children’s show is a little like calling Triple Crown champ, Justify, a promising colt. It’s, um, limited.
About halfway through my scribbled notes for Paul Schrader’s stunning new film, “First Reformed,” I came across the line, “’Taxi Driver’ Meets ‘An Inconvenient Truth.’”
Reasonably clever in a “quippy’ way — and dead wrong.
Yes, environmental concerns are raised in “First Reformed” and yes, Schrader wrote “Taxi Driver” which also examined the psyche of someone so isolated and in pain as to be almost beyond our understanding.
“Sitting in the Millennium Falcon next to a Wookie doesn’t make you Han Solo.”
These are the words — or near enough — of Salon V’s Amy C., one of the best hair stylists in the city, as well as a fine authority on most things movie-ish and all things “Star Wars”-ish.
I can’t answer Freud’s infamous and condescending query, “What do women want?”
But I know one thing we don’t. “Book Club.”
It’s hard to say which is more nauseating, the movie itself or the cloying reviews that suggest your mom will just love it, especially with a nice glass of chardonnay.
Here is an unfortunate rule of thumb about Melissa McCarthy movies: If her husband, Ben Falcone, is involved, stay away.
Without Falcone, she made “Spy,” “The Heat,” and “Bridesmaids.”
With him, she made “The Boss” and “Tammy.”
And now, “Life of the Party.”
Never mind The Avengers. The real superhero in theaters right now is Supreme Court Justice, Ruth Bader Ginsburg, the focus of “RBG.”
More valentine than documentary, the film is a spritely and affectionate tribute to the 84-year-old judge and unlikely pop-culture phenom who, like some fairy godmother many of us never knew we had, helped change the landscape of women’s rights in 20th and 21st century America.
“Avengers: Infinity War” is so damnably self-confident, you almost want to dislike it on principle.
But that’s just it. The movie deserves to be full of itself. That’s because it is full of itself, to the point of being as overstuffed as a holiday piñata.
If you don’t think of Natalie Wood and “West Side Story” when you hear the title of Amy Schumer’s new movie, that’s ok.
In fact, given the plot, “I Feel Pretty” is probably best taken as a statement, not a song lyric.
Steve Murray, my former colleague at the Atlanta Newspapers, is one of the best movie critics, anywhere, ever. Together, we had to suffer through some pretty vile stuff over the decades. Sometimes, when something got jaw-droppingly repulsive, he would lean over and whisper plaintively, “Make it stop….”
Oh, how I thought of him during “Ready Player One.”
Make it stoooopppp.
Imagine the whole world has been transformed into Anne Frank’s attic where the slightest sound could bring rampaging Nazis. Only, in the crafty and effective “A Quiet Place,” sound doesn’t summon jackboots; it brings nasty spindly-legged killer aliens (think “Alien” meets “Starship Troopers.”).
That’s the world we’re plunged into by director/star John Krasinski who inverts “Silence is Golden” into “Silence is Salvation.”
As fans of “Veep” already know (and we are legion), nobody does mordant political vaudeville like Armando Iannucci. His touch is swift, sure and utterly poisonous.
No wonder the frenetic power coup chronicled in his excellent new film, “The Death of Stalin,” is as much Monty Python and Marx Brothers as it is social commentary.
If you’re the sort of dog lover who choked up when Lassie came home, “Isle of Dogs” may not be for you.
If, however, you are an ardent fan of all things Wes Anderson, well, this movie is about as Wes Anderson as it gets.
Best known for such live-action features as “The Royal Tannenbaums,” “The Grand Budapest Hotel,” “Moonrise Kingdom” and “The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou,” Anderson also made a rather fabulous stop-motion animation called “The Fantastic Mr. Fox.”
By Eleanor Ringel Cater You spend maybe the first ten minutes of “Red Sparrow” trying to decide if you like Jennifer Lawrence in bangs. You spend the last hour and a half trying to figure out, who picks her projects? If it’s her agent, she needs to change. If she chooses them herself, she needs […]
Let’s blame Oprah. She gets blamed for so much else, so why not?
The beloved icon arrives in “A Wrinkle in Time” bigger than life and twice as unnatural. She’s got gold-beaded eyebrows and is dressed in what might be called The-Jetsons-Meets-Game-of-Thrones chic. And she is big — tall as a house, with an imperious (yet down-to-earth and kind-hearted) manner that suggests, well, Super-Sized Oprah.
Noel Coward, who famously enjoyed parties where a guest “got blind on Dubonet and Gin and scratched her veneer with a Cartier pin,” would find “The Party” right up his alley.
For the rest of us, well, it’s hardly difficult to find something to enjoy about a movie that offers Kristin Scott Thomas, Patricia Clarkson, Bruno Ganz, Emily Mortimer, Cillian Murphy, Cherry Jones and Timothy Spall.
You’re not supposed to want to escape from so-called “escapist” entertainment…are you?
Well, 20 minutes into the “mindless fun” of the new Jason Bateman comedy –“Game Night” – I was ready to swap my husband and my dogs for the nearest exit.
Like its protagonists, “The 15:17 to Paris” is amiable, low-key and kind of aimless.
You may not remember Spencer Stone, Anthony Sadler and Alek Skarlatos by name, but you probably remember their real-life 15 minutes of well-earned fame.
One hot August day in 2015, the three friends were traveling by train from Amsterdam to Paris. So was Ayoub El Khazzani, armed with an AK-47, a pistol, a box cutter and 300 rounds of ammunition.
There are those of us who will go see Hugh Jackman in anything. And I mean, anything.
Alas, “The Greatest Showman,” starring Jackman as 19th-century impresario, P. T. Barnum, is more like nothing. A showy, confused, big hunk of nothing.
“I was loved. I was hated. Then I was a punchline.”
And then she was a movie, in which she is, well, a punchline.
“She” is Tonya Harding, a hard-luck Olympic ice skater who, for about 16 seconds in 1994, became world famous as the white-trash underdog who tried to take out America’s ice-princess sweetheart, Nancy Kerrigan.
Atlanta, DeKalb to square off over annexation DeKalb says ‘smacks of backroom’ politicsJune 22, 2018 - 4:36 pm
Today’s Census report: Non-Hispanic whites are only cohort that’s shrinkingJune 21, 2018 - 12:10 am
No ATL senators on committee to study potential state take-over of ATL airportJune 20, 2018 - 4:41 pm
