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Sunday, June 14, 2015
Cindy Prascik's Review of Jurassic World
Dearest Blog, yesterday it was off to see Jurassic World with everyone else in the known universe.
Spoiler level here will be mild, nothing you wouldn't know from the trailers.
The money-grubbing folks who run a dinosaur-themed attraction decide a genetically-engineered new species would be good for business. What could possibly go wrong?
Dear reader(s), I gather many of you are just a smidge unhappy with this latest Jurassic installment. I'm fairly giving points to the "too many remakes/reboots/sequels/prequels" club, but, otherwise, I found a lot to like.
Obviously, first we have DINOSAURS. They are big, they are scary, and--even in 2D--some of them feel a little close for comfort. I'm hearing complaints about "too much CGI" (people do realize there weren't any actual dinosaurs available, right?) and poor CGI, but it looked pretty solid to me. Jurassic World boasts some lovely scenery, filmed in glorious, sweeping shots, a true pleasure to watch from the very first frame. There's plenty of action, from nail-biting chase scenes to epic dino-battles, and, if the humor is predictable, it's also pretty funny.
The characters are formulaic and one-dimensional, but most (*most*) of them are enjoyable anyway. Chris Pratt is especially fun in the lead, as likable and easy to root for as ever. Unfortunately, his female counterpart, played by Bryce Dallas Howard, is one of the worst characters in recent memory, and her teary-eyed routine grows old very quickly.
The movie runs just a tad long, and a few of the dinosaurs look weirdly like Jar Jar Binks, but overall I have only petty quibbles.
Jurassic World runs 124 minutes and is rated PG13 for "intense sequences of science-fiction violence and peril."
It may not measure up to that Jurassic fave from your childhood, but Jurassic World is a lot of fun in its own right.
Of a possible nine Weasleys, Jurassic World gets seven.
Until next time...
Saturday, June 6, 2015
MOVIE REVIEW: SPY
After years of doing work integral to the success of major missions, an intelligent but self-conscious deskbound CIA analyst (Melissa McCarthy) is finally given the chance to go undercover as a homely "cat lady" in order to save her missing partner (Jude Law) and thwart a global disaster at the hands of a dangerous arms dealer, in this comedy written and directed by Paul Feig. ~ Erin Demers, Rovi
Director: Paul Feig
Cast: Melissa McCarthy, Jason Statham, Rose Byrne, Bobby
Cannavale, Allison Janney
Release Date: Jun
05, 2015
Rated R for Language Throughout, Violence, and Some
Sexual Content Including Brief Graphic
Nudity
Runtime: 1 hr. 55 min.
Genres: Action/Adventure, Comedy
Review:
Spy is Paul Feig’s wonderfully vulgar spoof of the spy genre
that could become comedic classic down the road. It’s hilarious from the start and rarely lags
even with it’s hefty 2 hour runtime.
Melissa McCarthy carries the film ably but the real standouts are her
supporting cast. Jason Statham and Rose
Byrne are clearly having a ball hamming it up.
Statham steals just about every scene he’s in; thankfully Feig doesn’t
overuse him making him more effective.
Byrne and her hair piece are slightly larger players but just as funny
as the sexy villainess. Mix in strong
turns by Miranda Hart and Allison Janney and you’ve got a cast firing on all
cylinders. Paul Feig’s script is sharp
and witty even going as far as giving us a fairly interesting spy plot to keep
things interesting and hilarious all the way through.
A
Cindy Prascik's Review of Spy
Dearest Blog, yesterday it was off to the pictures for the new Paul Feig/Melissa McCarthy comedy, Spy.
Spoiler level here will be mild, nothing you wouldn't know from the trailers.
After a mission goes awry, a formerly office-bound CIA agent takes to the field.
Well, dear reader(s), the truth of the matter is I don't burn many cinema trips on comedies. There are several reasons for that, not least of which is that you usually spend your ten bucks and two hours only to find you've already seen all the really funny bits for free in a two-minute trailer. However, as Jason Statham goes, so go I, and I'm pleased to report that this time the captivating Mr. Statham is not responsible for two hours I want back. (Lookin' squarely at you, Redemption!)
It's fair to say you haven't heard the last of Jason Statham here, but Melissa McCarthy is the gal with her name above the title, and the comedienne ably keeps the laughs rolling as her accidentally-capable agent plays perfectly off other staples: the debonair Bond-type (Jude Law), the buffoonish superstar (Statham), the desk-jockey best friend (Miranda Hart), and of course the slick and slimy baddies (Rose Byrne and Bobby Cannavale).
Spy couldn't be more brilliantly cast, but as a fan I have to give a special shout-out to Miranda Hart, whose terrific turn hopefully will bring her lots more notice on this side of the pond. And then there's Jason Statham...oh...Jason Statham. If you didn't already know Statham can be funny, well, you just aren't paying attention, but he's a legitimate scene-stealer in Spy, and I couldn't be more delighted. Well, I *could* be more delighted if I hadn't had to wait 13 full minutes for him to make an appearance, but, other than that...probably not. Spy keeps the laughs coming, and if I worried this might be another of "those" waste-of-time comedies, that concern was already off the table before Statham even turned up.
Spy clocks in at an even two hours and is rated R for "language throughout, violence, and some sexual content including brief graphic nudity."
Smartly written and perfectly cast, Spy is a laugh-out-loud comedy with fantastic action and fight sequences, some beautiful locations, and nice twists.
Of a possible Nine Weasleys, Spy gets eight.
Until next time...*
*Author's note: This review sucks because I have no Starbucks today!
Sunday, May 31, 2015
Cindy Prascik's Reviews of Aloha & San Andreas
Dearest Blog, yesterday it was off to the pictures more because it's what I do on a Saturday than because there was anything I was all that interested in watching. The weekend's offerings: Aloha and San Andreas.
Spoiler level here will be mild, nothing not previously divulged by the trailers.
First on my middling agenda: Aloha.
A former military hotshot gets a second chance at life and love in Hawaii.
Aloha isn't normally the type of movie I'd watch unless and until it crossed my path for free on cable; however, a super cast made it a better option than the dreadful-looking Tomorrowland to complete my San Andreas double-bill.
Aloha's biggest flaw is that it never really decides what it is. Tangents are many, fully explored ones are few, and things always seem to be happening and people behaving in ways that don't quite make sense. The movie clocks in under two hours; it might have done well to better flesh out a few things. NOT encouraging yet another bloated less-than-epic Hollywood epic, but Aloha feels a bit like a puzzle missing a piece.
The movie makes little use of Hawaii's great natural beauty, though it doesn't willfully try to make the island seem unappealing, either, like the Descendants did. Also in its favor over the Descendants: people in Aloha actually wear real, grownup shoes sometimes. Hooray for socks!!
The aforementioned super cast almost--almost!--manages to compensate for Aloha's other shortcomings. Alec Baldwin and Danny McBride make the most of their limited screen time, and Bill Murray, John Krasinski, and Rachel McAdams are perfect fits in supporting roles.
Bradley Cooper is nothing short of fantastic in the sort of leading man role that's perfect for a guy with his looks, even if he's been both good and lucky enough to break out of that mold for the most part.
Young Jaeden Lieberher is the movie's scene-stealer, precocious, but not annoying. Finally, whatever higher power you believe in, if you don't think Emma Stone represents His/Her/Its finest work, well, then, I just don't know what's wrong with you. She is earnest and beautiful and 150% terrific, and lights up every scene she's in to such a degree that it hurts when she's missing. So, yeah, Aloha is kind of hokey, but in the end I was rooting for almost everyone and I actually liked it.
Aloha runs 105 minutes and is rated PG13 for "some language, including suggestive comments."
Despite its being the second romance forced on me by a pitiful spring film slate, I didn't hate it.
Of a possible nine Weasleys, Aloha gets five.
Next up, San Andreas.
Dwayne Johnson is better than you are, and you should make every effort to be in his company when beset by disaster.
Listen, San Andreas is the kind of thing that's normally right up my alley, but a done-to-death idea and effects that looked kinda wonky in the trailer left me ambivalent. I'm pleased to say that, though it may be the most stupidly implausible movie I've ever seen (and remember, I like movies about radioactive spiders and talking dragons), San Andreas is also quite fun.
Truth: San Andreas is dumber than a bag of hair. Lowest-common denominator laughs. Contrived scenarios. Insipid dialogue. Painful "inspirational" shots backed by a comically-swelling score. Had I rolled my eyes just one more time, I'd be looking out the back of my head to write this review.
I'd heard some complaints about the accuracy of the movie's earthquake science, and while I don't doubt those are entirely true, I don't think most folks would have noticed or cared; the bigger problem is that everything else is so ridiculous you can't even buy into the mundane.
The supporting cast ranges from "I love that guy!" (Will Yun Lee) to pretty likeable (Hugo Johnstone-Burt and Art Parkinson) to super annoying (Alexandra Daddario) to "What the hell are you even doing here?" (Paul Giamatti).
I'm sorely disappointed to discover that the beautiful Carla Gugino is an ugly crier. Of course none of that really matters, because the movie belongs to Dwayne Johnson. Despite the fact he doesn't do much smiling or taking off his shirt (the two things he does best, for my money), he remains one of the more engaging leading men working in Hollywood today, and at his side probably isn't the worst place you could be when the world goes to hell. San Andreas is pretty entertaining, and that's mostly thanks to Johnson.
Thankfully, the effects are also better than the trailer would have led you to believe. There's one awful bit of green-screen, but the rest is huge and quite effective. Felt a lot like being on a rollercoaster, and I saw it in 2D; I can only imagine the 3D is utterly vomit inducing, in the best possible way. The movie also does a great job at maintaining tension, a fingernail chewer from start to finish.
San Andreas clocks in at 114 minutes and is rated PG13 for "intense disaster action and mayhem throughout, and brief strong language" (a single f-bomb that you can see coming a mile out).
It's a disaster alright, but it's a fun one.
Of a possible nine Weasleys, San Andreas gets four.
Until next time...
Sunday, May 17, 2015
Cindy Prascik's Reviews of Mad Max: Fury Road & The Longest Ride
Dearest Blog, yesterday it was off to the cinema for the unlikely pairing of Mad Max: Fury Road and The Longest Ride.
Spoiler level here will be mild, nothing you wouldn't know from the trailers.
First on my agenda: Mad Max: Fury Road.
A pair of unlikely allies flees a pack of brutal baddies across a futuristic desert wasteland.
Dear reader(s), I have long known the summer of 2015 would mean one thing for me: admitting I haven't seen the original Mad Max, Jurassic Park, or Terminator movies since their theatrical releases.
My recollection of the three franchises is limited to one (1) Tina Turner video (from Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome) and Izzy from Miami Vice being killed whilst sitting on the toilet (in the first Jurassic Park).
Therefore, 'twas not any residual affection for the original, nor any delight at seeing it resurrected, that led to my excitement for the new Mad Max; the credit for that can be laid solely at the feet of one of the most amazing trailers in recent memory. In fact, I frequently said if the movie were half as good as said trailer, we'd be in good shape.
Note to self: refrain from such statements in the future.
First, let's get to what Mad Max: Fury Road gets right, because there's plenty, and it's absolutely worth the price of admission. This is a magnificent-looking movie. Full marks across the board for cinematography, art direction, costumes and makeup, effects, stunts, locations, and set design.
Even the 3D is spectacular, and I assure you, dear reader(s), I generally have no love for 3D. Explosive maximum carnage--both human and vehicular--is up-close and enormous. The acting, such as it is, is far less cringeworthy than the original trilogy.
Tom Hardy makes a fair replacement for Mel Gibson, though, even as the titular good guy, he has less to do than Charlize Theron, a tough and able hero. Nicholas Hoult is surprisingly un-annoying (for Nicholas Hoult), and Jason Statham's woman is serviceable in just her second big-screen appearance, at least as far as I could tell between giving her the stinkeye. A grand score by Junkie XL perfectly complements the huge action.
Now...here's the problem: you know when you hop in the car to go on vacation? At first it's so exciting, but, after about 30 minutes, it's all, "Are we there yet?" That's this movie. It's essentially just one overlong car chase, and it is unspeakably exhausting. I was all but done by the halfway point and wishing it *were* just a Tina Turner video. There's barely enough plot for a short, and, in the end, I'd say the movie is almost exactly half as good as that trailer that raised my hopes so very high.
Mad Max: Fury Road runs two hours on the dot (but seems much longer) and is rated R for "intense sequences of violence throughout, and disturbing images."
It's a disappointment in many ways, but Mad Max: Fury Road is still more than worth seeing in 3D on the biggest screen you can find.
Of a possible nine Weasleys, Mad Max: Fury Road gets six.
Next up was the most recent Nicholas Sparks gag-fest, The Longest Ride.
A young bullrider and his art-student girlfriend find valuable lessons in some old love letters.
Alrighty, in the interest of full and fair disclosure: whatever a "fair shake" is for a dog turd like The Longest Ride, you may rest assured it isn't getting one here. I'm not one to sign on for a movie I know I'm going to hate, just for the privilege of hating it, but sometimes my hand is forced by a beloved actor, so...thank Jack Huston for what follows.
The Longest Ride kicks off with more lower-lip-biting and demure-looking-through-lashes than the best 50 Shades parody.
Fifteen minutes in I'm cursing the half-dozen other patrons keeping me from getting out my phone and piddling on Facebook during the non-Jack Huston parts.
Then we're off to watch Real Men participate in the barbaric "sport" of bull riding. Cue the groupies in their short skirts and cowboy boots--our squeaky-clean hero has eyes for just one--cut to dirty looks from the other women in attendance. Is there an app that tells me when my favorite actor is onscreen? I could always go hide in the bathroom for awhile... He's come to pick her up at the sorority house for their first date. Preppy college kids giggle and whisper at his boots and hat, but when he presents flowers (my gosh, no guy has ever thought of THAT before!) the entire sorority squeals, "I want a cowboy!"
Who writes this shit? Is there money in it? Sign me up!
On their way home, the couple happens upon a car accident. Sexy Cowboy pulls a victim from the burning car, while the Damsel rescues a box about which he seems concerned, even in his gravely-injured state.
Perhaps the car will blow up? This movie would be a lot more tolerable if only something would blow up.
She elects to stay at the ER with the elderly accident victim, sneaking a peek in his precious box, which is filled with old love letters.
When he awakes, he instantly takes to her--despite being supremely grouchy to everyone else--and sadly confesses he can no longer read the letters. Thus begins an epic friendship that consists of her reading the letters aloud while he lies there looking like death-warmed-over.
Is it poor form to riff out loud at the movies? Asking for a friend. The rest of the so-called plot consists of romantic standards such as running on the beach and vanilla, rating-conscious love scenes. (Folks, if you send your women off to see this, thinking they'll come home in a lather, forget about it.
The sex is no more explicit than your average broadcast TV show, and they're more likely to come home and demand you purchase a priceless work of art to prove your undying love.) Leads Scott Eastwood (Clint's son, apparently) and Britt Robertson are about as bland and predictable as the story itself.
The terrific Jack Huston and Oona Chaplin are pitifully wasted as the younger version of the couple in the love letters. It goes without saying Alan Alda is slumming in crap like this, but feigning life-threatening injury does at least give him a little bit of acting to do. By the end I was actively pondering whether the straw from my soda could be used to perform ritual suicide.
The Longest Ride clocks in at a bloated 139 minutes and is rated PG13 for "some sexuality, partial nudity, and some war and sports action."
It won't take long before you're rooting for the bull, trust me.
Of a possible nine Weasleys, The Longest Ride gets two, both of which are awarded for Jack Huston's only 2015 big-screen appearance.
Until next time.
Spoiler level here will be mild, nothing you wouldn't know from the trailers.
First on my agenda: Mad Max: Fury Road.
A pair of unlikely allies flees a pack of brutal baddies across a futuristic desert wasteland.
Dear reader(s), I have long known the summer of 2015 would mean one thing for me: admitting I haven't seen the original Mad Max, Jurassic Park, or Terminator movies since their theatrical releases.
My recollection of the three franchises is limited to one (1) Tina Turner video (from Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome) and Izzy from Miami Vice being killed whilst sitting on the toilet (in the first Jurassic Park).
Therefore, 'twas not any residual affection for the original, nor any delight at seeing it resurrected, that led to my excitement for the new Mad Max; the credit for that can be laid solely at the feet of one of the most amazing trailers in recent memory. In fact, I frequently said if the movie were half as good as said trailer, we'd be in good shape.
Note to self: refrain from such statements in the future.
First, let's get to what Mad Max: Fury Road gets right, because there's plenty, and it's absolutely worth the price of admission. This is a magnificent-looking movie. Full marks across the board for cinematography, art direction, costumes and makeup, effects, stunts, locations, and set design.
Even the 3D is spectacular, and I assure you, dear reader(s), I generally have no love for 3D. Explosive maximum carnage--both human and vehicular--is up-close and enormous. The acting, such as it is, is far less cringeworthy than the original trilogy.
Tom Hardy makes a fair replacement for Mel Gibson, though, even as the titular good guy, he has less to do than Charlize Theron, a tough and able hero. Nicholas Hoult is surprisingly un-annoying (for Nicholas Hoult), and Jason Statham's woman is serviceable in just her second big-screen appearance, at least as far as I could tell between giving her the stinkeye. A grand score by Junkie XL perfectly complements the huge action.
Now...here's the problem: you know when you hop in the car to go on vacation? At first it's so exciting, but, after about 30 minutes, it's all, "Are we there yet?" That's this movie. It's essentially just one overlong car chase, and it is unspeakably exhausting. I was all but done by the halfway point and wishing it *were* just a Tina Turner video. There's barely enough plot for a short, and, in the end, I'd say the movie is almost exactly half as good as that trailer that raised my hopes so very high.
Mad Max: Fury Road runs two hours on the dot (but seems much longer) and is rated R for "intense sequences of violence throughout, and disturbing images."
It's a disappointment in many ways, but Mad Max: Fury Road is still more than worth seeing in 3D on the biggest screen you can find.
Of a possible nine Weasleys, Mad Max: Fury Road gets six.
Next up was the most recent Nicholas Sparks gag-fest, The Longest Ride.
A young bullrider and his art-student girlfriend find valuable lessons in some old love letters.
Alrighty, in the interest of full and fair disclosure: whatever a "fair shake" is for a dog turd like The Longest Ride, you may rest assured it isn't getting one here. I'm not one to sign on for a movie I know I'm going to hate, just for the privilege of hating it, but sometimes my hand is forced by a beloved actor, so...thank Jack Huston for what follows.
The Longest Ride kicks off with more lower-lip-biting and demure-looking-through-lashes than the best 50 Shades parody.
Fifteen minutes in I'm cursing the half-dozen other patrons keeping me from getting out my phone and piddling on Facebook during the non-Jack Huston parts.
Then we're off to watch Real Men participate in the barbaric "sport" of bull riding. Cue the groupies in their short skirts and cowboy boots--our squeaky-clean hero has eyes for just one--cut to dirty looks from the other women in attendance. Is there an app that tells me when my favorite actor is onscreen? I could always go hide in the bathroom for awhile... He's come to pick her up at the sorority house for their first date. Preppy college kids giggle and whisper at his boots and hat, but when he presents flowers (my gosh, no guy has ever thought of THAT before!) the entire sorority squeals, "I want a cowboy!"
Who writes this shit? Is there money in it? Sign me up!
On their way home, the couple happens upon a car accident. Sexy Cowboy pulls a victim from the burning car, while the Damsel rescues a box about which he seems concerned, even in his gravely-injured state.
Perhaps the car will blow up? This movie would be a lot more tolerable if only something would blow up.
She elects to stay at the ER with the elderly accident victim, sneaking a peek in his precious box, which is filled with old love letters.
When he awakes, he instantly takes to her--despite being supremely grouchy to everyone else--and sadly confesses he can no longer read the letters. Thus begins an epic friendship that consists of her reading the letters aloud while he lies there looking like death-warmed-over.
Is it poor form to riff out loud at the movies? Asking for a friend. The rest of the so-called plot consists of romantic standards such as running on the beach and vanilla, rating-conscious love scenes. (Folks, if you send your women off to see this, thinking they'll come home in a lather, forget about it.
The sex is no more explicit than your average broadcast TV show, and they're more likely to come home and demand you purchase a priceless work of art to prove your undying love.) Leads Scott Eastwood (Clint's son, apparently) and Britt Robertson are about as bland and predictable as the story itself.
The terrific Jack Huston and Oona Chaplin are pitifully wasted as the younger version of the couple in the love letters. It goes without saying Alan Alda is slumming in crap like this, but feigning life-threatening injury does at least give him a little bit of acting to do. By the end I was actively pondering whether the straw from my soda could be used to perform ritual suicide.
The Longest Ride clocks in at a bloated 139 minutes and is rated PG13 for "some sexuality, partial nudity, and some war and sports action."
It won't take long before you're rooting for the bull, trust me.
Of a possible nine Weasleys, The Longest Ride gets two, both of which are awarded for Jack Huston's only 2015 big-screen appearance.
Until next time.
Pen name: Nicholas Sparks.
MOVIE REVIEW: PITCH PERFECT 2
In this sequel to Pitch Perfect, the collegiate a cappella group called the Barden Bellas enter into an international competition, but they are told it will be impossible to win because they are from the U.S. The girls refuse to give up and vow to be the first Americans to take home the top prize. Directed by Elizabeth Banks, the film stars Anna Kendrick, Rebel Wilson, and Hailee Steinfeld. ~ Erin Demers, Rovi
Director: Elizabeth Banks
Cast: Anna Kendrick, Rebel Wilson,
Brittany Snow, Hailee Steinfeld, Katey
Sagal
Release Date: May
15, 2015
Rated: PG-13 Innuendo and Language
Runtime: 1 hr. 55 min.
Genres: Comedy
Review:
Pitch Perfect was one of those films that surprised me when
I first saw it and has become a personal favorite. It was a fun film with some great comedic
bite along with some great characters. A
sequel seemed a bit of an odd sale mainly because recapturing that kind of
magic is difficult especially in a musical comedy. The sequel will leave fans content for the
most part. The characters are so much
fun that you can kind of ignore the fact that the plot is kind of pedestrian
there’s really not much going on. The
film is an overlong by at least 20 minutes.
Thankfully it’s still funny more times than not and all the actresses
ease back into their roles comfortably.
Elizabeth Banks does a solid job behind the directors chair delivering
some impressively staged musical numbers that are impressively rousing. Hailee Steinfeld joins the cast and her
character is a tad bland for my taste which is a shame since her character is
tasked with carrying the torch in an eventual sequel.
B+
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