There's just something irresistibly fun about a "jack-in-the-box" movie like Black Bag. You know, the sort of movie where you're not sure which crank of the handle is going to spur that explosive popping of the top. The slower, more deliberate the turns, the more teeth are gritted in anticipation.
It doesn't take long for Black Bag to establish itself as a pantheon-level offering in Steven Soderbergh's portfolio of showpieces, a sleek and taut return to form for a director…
There's a scene where Woody Harrelson (playing an aging, mission-ravaged veteran diver) recalls a harrowing experience in which one of his fellow divers perished in the deep dark sea. The recovery mission he took part in was heartlessly aborted for budgetary reasons. With no body claimed, all they had to show for their efforts was a shoebox filled with whatever was cobbled together from the victim's on-board locker, which was then given to their spouse. Just a few piddling souvenirs.…
It's not just that Mark Wahlberg's character is bald. It's that his baldness defies reality.
The trailer depicts a close-up of a deranged (and de-hatted) "Marky Mark", forcibly restrained on board the rickety plane he's supposed to be piloting. We've all seen it. Though a closer examination on the big screen reveals extreme disparity in color between his forehead and scalp. I suppose if a horseshoe-headed man wore a trucker cap long enough, he *could* develop a farmer's tan on…
I really wanted to love Riff Raff. I was gassed up by the possibilities. Fully prepared to look past any shortcomings to revel in the expected net positives. Its collective level of talent alone held so much promise.
In practice, Riff Raff was an aimlessly-adrift husk of dysconnectivity bailed out by a suitably tense, darkly-funny final act. It mystified me that the rest of the movie couldn't be anywhere near as enjoyable.
It's one thing for a movie to leave…
