Our leading man went from "ass" to "fine" in remarkable time. Folks, these are the simpler days of Hallmark.
Deducted points for massive overuse of lens polarizers. The sky is gray/blue reminiscent of any horror movie.
TWO interrupted smooches?! That's double what I paid for.
Nothing's more American than cutting corners!
I still love Jack Lemmon's sad, scared frustration – but on repeat viewings, I've paid more attention to Wilford Brimley's character. With utter indifference until the very end, he leans whichever way the wind blows. Give the man an order, no matter how gross, and he'll do it.
Unfortunately, we're rapidly finding out that the world is filled with millions of Wilford Brimley's.
A Paul McCartney song for the opening credits?! They’ll never be able to afford to play this again!
Me, yelling excitedly to no one about the innovative camera framing/movements and, and, annnnnd how some of the dancing girls suffered electric shocks from the malfunctioning neon violins. You shouldda been there!
