On anime, vampires, and the physicality of transgressive queerness (except, maybe, not).
In a belated effort to tap into the success of his hit TV show The Office, Ricky Gervais risks unflattering comparisons with his washed up titular character.
During my childhood, I well and truly slept on Samurai Pizza Cats. I imagined to be just another half-assed Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles clone and paid it no mind. Bad luck, teen me; that’s hours of weekday afternoons I was missing out.
There’s no particular reason why this generic German crime/romance-thriller needs to be executed in a single take, aside from it making good marketing copy. It sure doesn’t make for a good movie.
The Shallows has a simple task: make sharks scary again. And it succeeds admirably, while offering (perhaps unintentionally) interesting commentary on sexualised heroines in horror movies.
Pablo Larrain’s unconventional, dizzying portrait of Pablo Neruda is reminiscent of Luis Buñuel; that’s gotta be a good thing.
If you can stomach Sausage Party’s dire string of lazy racial caricatures and innuendo for an hour, the final sausage in the chain is pretty tasty.