James Brenton

Fun fact: Blackrock emloyees have names and addresses.

The hamfisted message of innocent and virtuous women being taken advantage of by routinely misogynistic men makes this film as much a product of its own time as the events portrayed. The story of the titular character, played by Kendrick herself, is little more than a footnote of the (ostensible) main story, which is a disjointed biopic of a real serial killer. Despite this, more attention is focused on Kendrick's character throughout, which feels odd in the presence of characters who were much more pivotal to Alcala's story. The misogyny of 70's hollywood culture, less hidden but just as prevalent then as it is today, is an undeniable fact. But given that the titular character is portrayed by a woman who ran the hollywood gauntlet to the point that she wrote the film itself, the message rings of a certain hypocrisy. Overall, it seems like 2 different films were mashed together in an attempt to tap into a synergy that just isn't there.

2 stars is exactly what this mediocre-not-horrible film deserves. A pet themed reskin of Toy Story, but this one reeks of illumination's cynical, shallow humor schtick that attempts to ape "Shrek". Unlike Shrek or Toy Story, this film has no soul or coherent direction, just a string of cheap gags that progress into outlandish suspension of belief(the pets driving the pound truck, crashing it full speed into a wall, and getting up unscathed). The rabbit is particularly irritating (zootopia did it too) and his sewer home antics jump the loony toons shark too hard to return to the originally realistic, if goofy, premise.

Being a comedian does not make you funny. Doing a show where you gather a bunch of comedians together and do mundane things while they each try desperately to riff off of random stuff... not spectacular.

Anyone who believes in racial equality understands that racism is possible against ANY race. This latest in a long, long line of sanctimonious, redundant gestures toward instilling self-awareness in white people will, yet again, damage rather than heal race relations, as is obviously the intent of the filmmakers at this point.

Where to begin... if you've ever seen "the Day after Tomorrow" or "War of the worlds", there is little point in enduring this preachy, overlong propaganda piece. The tone-deaf social commentary suggests that Bill Gates himself took time out of his busy schedule as a vaccine professor/landowner to dabble in screenwriting. The inclusion of ariana grande is a heavy symptom of how out-of-touch everyone involved with this film was. Sorry Leo is running out of money and/or was blackmailed into working with jonah hill, sarah silvermann and other grease incarnate individuals.

A fine display of atmospheric gloominess and despair, this artistic effort is best appreciated scene by scene, as the full package is much less than the sum of its parts. We seem to observe the monochrome world through the lens of Howard's fever dreams, never certain of what is really happening vs mere illusion. The whiplashesque presence of Wake maintains the vibe of choking frustration as Howard struggles to keep up with his impossible expectations. The overarching theme seems to be substance abuse as a coping mechanism for dealing with oppressive authority, which is likely the explanation for Howard's delerium. The theme of nautical supernature is ambiguous in the same way as the devil's in the VVitch. We are never explicitly certain of the existence of the siren, or of the seagulls' sinister machinations. After sneaking a look at Wake in the lighthouse at night, Howard never questions or brings up the slimy tentacled apparition he observes there. In the final scene Howard gazes into the lighthouse's lantern and screams exaltedy before tumbling down the spiral staircase. It is left to the viewer's imagination as to what he saw, as well as Wake's behaviour in its presence. This ambiguity, while apparently intentional, comes across as a lazy method of forcing the viewer to do the work that more detailed exposition should have done. An atmospheric depression-immersion that holds a unique place in cinema, but which could have used time taken from Wake's 5 minute cursing rant to better craft the viewer's understanding of the strange, bitter world.

Flying Storm Troopers? You gotta be kiddin' me pal.