Captain America: Same Old Shit
Most of the character’s introductions are structured in a way that assumes their reputation precedes them, no more than the wise Isiah Bradley. Supposedly an omniscient OG of the game, whose role demands respect from the audience — in order to validate his arc, except we don’t, because we have no idea who tf he is.
For a while, the only strength on show is the restraint held to conceal the mastermind behind the fatal,…
The answer is blowin’ in the wind
The question is Who is Bob Dylan?
Expectations of musician biopics should be limited to - a showcase of the artists music. The last few year’s offerings are essentially glorified music videos: Back to black, One love, now this. Mangold is so hellbent on preserving Dylan’s elusiveness that he reduces him to a bot - an arsehole who only communicates through his music.
Song after song after song. Not necessarily a bad thing…
OAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
Like watching paint dry. Albeit the paint of a beautiful Parisian portrait, one which you gaze at until mellowing into a deep slumber. A deep slumber which is abruptly shattered by an operatic alarm clock.
Angelina Jolie is good. The writing is boring. The songs are annoying. The pacing is equal to that of my 2001 VW Polo - and not in a good way.
Even though I know I should, this has not inspired me to want to explore Pablo’s filmography any further.
“He’s done it again, that Harry Kane”
This guy doesn’t miss.
Comedy lands perfectly at the hands of the stellar performances throughout, namely Igor and of course, Ani. And some of Sean’s best writing yet - uncovering the inherently transactional relationships experienced by sex workers. This joint is a thrilling ride until it isn’t… that final scene deflated me for a good couple hours after I’d left the screening.
My main/only gripe is the misuse of console controllers. Seems minor…
