<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522</id><updated>2012-02-16T18:03:49.551-08:00</updated><category term='`'/><title type='text'>The Bourne Critic</title><subtitle type='html'>"Look at us. Look at what they make you give."</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>364</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-8753603695644974905</id><published>2011-04-02T19:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-02T19:38:49.818-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Machete</title><content type='html'>&lt;!--StartFragment--&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I took a break, yada yada yada, and now I’m back.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Leaner and meaner, starker and darker.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Shorter.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Probably shorter.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Sometimes I can’t help it.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;What can I say?&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I was bourne this way.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;But let's get down to it. They’ve made movies based on theme park rides (“Pirates of the Caribbean”), toys (“Transformers”), and things no one cares about (“The King’s Speech”).&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Why not a movie based on a fake trailer from another movie?&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Enter “Machete,” a ridiculous action romp of increasingly diminishing returns.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;While it has the consistent undercurrent of being an anti-anti-immigration story, Robert Rodirguez doesn’t let that detract from the gallons of gore and scenes of people jumping out of a window while holding another man’s intestines and using it (them?) as a rope.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The film also features Lindsay Lohan, who is believable as a young woman with significant father issues who doesn’t mind taking off her clothes and mixing it up.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Enjoyable, but I didn’t appreciate it as much as some of Rodgiruez’s other work. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Onward!&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;!--EndFragment--&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-8753603695644974905?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/8753603695644974905/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=8753603695644974905' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/8753603695644974905'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/8753603695644974905'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2011/04/machete.html' title='Machete'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-7665439093102153838</id><published>2009-05-25T22:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-25T22:40:03.858-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Annapolis</title><content type='html'>Here's what happened. The producers approached a screenwriter and said, "Write a movie about a guy who goes to the naval academy and also boxes. Throw in every movie cliche you can think of. Give us the final product in forty minutes." Then, somehow, the producers got the director of the great "Better Luck Tomorrow" and James Franco to join in on the project. This is the result of that anomalous confluence of events.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Annapolis" is one of the more preposterously stupid films I've seen recently, but I enjoyed myself thoroughly. That being said, I wouldn't recommend this movie to anyone, unless you want to see Franco exercise a lot in the many montage scenes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-7665439093102153838?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/7665439093102153838/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=7665439093102153838' title='39 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/7665439093102153838'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/7665439093102153838'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/05/annapolis.html' title='Annapolis'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>39</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-683853250738025095</id><published>2009-05-17T06:53:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-07T22:52:03.581-07:00</updated><title type='text'>With a Friend Like Harry</title><content type='html'>A good, if almost tired, premise: A man is approached by someone he does not know, but the someone seems to know a lot about him. Creepiness then ensues. But what might be a feisty French thriller turns out to be rather pedestrian. Not much here, except for some reason parts of it remind me of the Dutch film "The Vanishing," which is far superior.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-683853250738025095?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/683853250738025095/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=683853250738025095' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/683853250738025095'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/683853250738025095'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/05/with-friend-like-harry.html' title='With a Friend Like Harry'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-1232614153696013884</id><published>2009-05-10T14:39:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-07T22:55:04.860-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bloodsport</title><content type='html'>It's much worse than I remember. See, for example, the scene where Jean-Claude has a flashback of his training days. So we see a still shot of JCVD looking askance, then a snippet of a training montage, then another still of JCVD, still ruminating, as if we'd forgotten this was his memory, then another snippet from his childhood, and so on. For ten minutes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I still love this movie. The kumite. Frank Dux. Bolo Yueng as Chong Li. All good things.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-1232614153696013884?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/1232614153696013884/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=1232614153696013884' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/1232614153696013884'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/1232614153696013884'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/05/bloodsport.html' title='Bloodsport'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-1008910803351449120</id><published>2009-05-07T05:15:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-15T23:04:51.617-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sudden Death</title><content type='html'>It's the last game of the Stanley Cup. The Vice President is there. So is Powers Boothe, who plays one of the least interesting villains ever. Good thing Van Damme, a former firefighter, is there to fight a penguin, play goalie, and generally save the day. Do I regret watching this movie? Of course not. But I wouldn't say I'm proud of it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-1008910803351449120?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/1008910803351449120/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=1008910803351449120' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/1008910803351449120'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/1008910803351449120'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/05/sudden-death.html' title='Sudden Death'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-5786140735321950030</id><published>2009-04-27T06:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-15T23:00:51.046-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Come Drink With Me</title><content type='html'>A classic Shaw brothers martial arts film that bored me and that I watched mostly in fast forward.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-5786140735321950030?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/5786140735321950030/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=5786140735321950030' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/5786140735321950030'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/5786140735321950030'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/04/come-drink-with-me.html' title='Come Drink With Me'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-5578912631257905637</id><published>2009-04-27T06:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-10T21:48:23.792-07:00</updated><title type='text'>W.</title><content type='html'>Things I learned from watching Oliver Stone's take on the W: W has daddy issues, Barbara is three feet shorter than George Herbert, and Herbie is actually manly. My response is, of course, not really, and I kind of doubt it. Far gone are the Stone heydays of "Salvador," "Natural Born Killers," and "Midnight Express." I miss those days.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-5578912631257905637?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/5578912631257905637/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=5578912631257905637' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/5578912631257905637'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/5578912631257905637'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/04/w.html' title='W.'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-1835636130741885649</id><published>2009-04-23T05:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-10T21:44:35.278-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Kiss Me Deadly</title><content type='html'>Mike Hammer is a Bedroom Dick (a PI who specializes in divorces). He does things like, when he sees two ladies cross his path, says, "Ooh, look at all the goodies." Then he gets involved in a complex crime that involves radioactive material and a "Repo Man"-esque briefcase. It's okay fifties noir.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-1835636130741885649?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/1835636130741885649/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=1835636130741885649' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/1835636130741885649'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/1835636130741885649'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/04/kiss-me-deadly.html' title='Kiss Me Deadly'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-2095401831148604591</id><published>2009-04-21T05:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-23T19:45:10.602-07:00</updated><title type='text'>OSS 117: Cairo, Nest of Spies</title><content type='html'>An occasionally inspired but more often so-so exercise in French spy spoofery that has the look of "Dr. No" and the feel of "Undercover Brother." The great moment that sticks in my head is where the French spy tells his Egyptian love interest that the problem with Arabic is that it's too hard to read.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-2095401831148604591?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/2095401831148604591/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=2095401831148604591' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/2095401831148604591'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/2095401831148604591'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/04/oss-117-cairo-nest-of-spies.html' title='OSS 117: Cairo, Nest of Spies'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-5255278542828101991</id><published>2009-04-20T05:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-10T21:53:18.951-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Grapes of Wrath</title><content type='html'>The travails of Tom Joad, famous in part for his memorable "I'll be there" speech. And it looks like Lloyd Bridges (Mandelbaum! Mandelbaum!) as Grandpappy Joad. A story of people who, in their words, ain't been treated decent in a while. I like the scene where the farmer who's getting kicked off his land is trying to figure out who to shoot -- not the bank, or the manager (just doing what he's told). "Then who &lt;em&gt;do&lt;/em&gt; we shoot?" It perfectly sums up the indignant desperation of the poor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's hard not to think of the Okies as stupid (they believe anything a handbill tells them). But you'd have to be heartless not to sympathize with them -- they're poor and don't really have the option of not believing what people tell them to. When a passing motorist says there's work eighty miles that way, they've got to go that way. Good movie, but I think I liked the book better.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-5255278542828101991?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/5255278542828101991/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=5255278542828101991' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/5255278542828101991'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/5255278542828101991'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/04/grapes-of-wrath.html' title='The Grapes of Wrath'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-5660216029198619765</id><published>2009-04-19T07:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-23T19:30:50.491-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Man for All Seasons</title><content type='html'>Where are the heroes of yesteryear? Men such as Thomas More, the subject of this film? A man who doesn't waste his time with easy questions, such as, if the Catholic Church is so corrupt, why am I Catholic? A man who instead says, my view of religion is this, and anyone who disagrees with me is a heretic. A man who won't let his daughter marry the love of her life because he is a Lutheran. Until he becomes a Catholic, in which case he's okay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But More is a man of principles and stands up for what he believes in. In that sense, the filmmakers suppose his life is worthy of study. However, shouldn't we also be questioning what those principles are? A lot of people we consider bad stand up for what they believe in. So what? So what if he stood up to a king because of an insignificant interpretation of the rules of divorce according to the church? I for one do not care.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-5660216029198619765?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/5660216029198619765/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=5660216029198619765' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/5660216029198619765'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/5660216029198619765'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/04/man-for-all-seasons.html' title='A Man for All Seasons'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-5558057781032247638</id><published>2009-04-15T05:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-27T06:10:26.157-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Reader</title><content type='html'>In post-World War II Germany, a Nazi cougar (Kate Winslet) gets naked with a young one, who reads to her. Then the young one grows up and watches Winslet stand trial for being a Nazi who personally helped kill hundreds of people. Then we learn she has a secret, which is both amazingly predictable and at the same time preposterously stupid. Then the young one grows up, becomes a lawyer, and shares a secret of his own with his daughter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some people think the movie is about German guilt. The young one knows that she is not revealing her secret during the trial, and he does nothing. This, people say, is like Germans during the Holocaust knowing what was happening to Jews, and yet they did nothing. They stood by. That may be what the filmmakers think it's about, but I'm not sure the film is about anything. If they want to explain, or excuse, or explore, what ordinary Germans did during the Holocaust, maybe the film should be about what ordinary Germans did during the Holocaust, and not what ordinary Germans did &lt;em&gt;after&lt;/em&gt; the Holocaust. Just a thought.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-5558057781032247638?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/5558057781032247638/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=5558057781032247638' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/5558057781032247638'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/5558057781032247638'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/04/reader.html' title='The Reader'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-9116481046100600243</id><published>2009-04-13T05:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-30T06:00:34.650-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Willow</title><content type='html'>A Ron Howard film about the conflicts between the Nelwyns and Daikinis. No, not "Frost/Nixon." This is the tale of Queen Bavmorda, Willow Ufgood (Warwick Davis), who wants to be High Aldwin's apprentice, Madmartigan (Val Kilmer), Willow's companions Meegosh and Burglekutt, and the all important baby, Elora Danon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Parts of the movie -- the tavern scene, the assault on Bavmorda's castle -- play like, pardon the pun, "The Lord of the Rings" on a smaller scale. But in the final analysis, it's timeless in the sense that it's as good now as it was when it was released.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-9116481046100600243?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/9116481046100600243/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=9116481046100600243' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/9116481046100600243'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/9116481046100600243'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/04/willow.html' title='Willow'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-999158458409278327</id><published>2009-04-12T07:46:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-23T19:26:08.001-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Don Juan, or, If Don Juan Were a Woman</title><content type='html'>Reputed sexpot Brigitte Bardot plays a Donna Juan character in this snooze of a film that plays like "Emmanuelle" without the good stuff. Instead of the good stuff, we get a lot of pseudo-philosophic, faux-Freudian palaver that would only be interesting, if that, for people like Camille Paglia.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-999158458409278327?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/999158458409278327/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=999158458409278327' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/999158458409278327'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/999158458409278327'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/04/don-juan-or-if-don-juan-were-woman.html' title='Don Juan, or, If Don Juan Were a Woman'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-3005482968640524581</id><published>2009-04-10T05:34:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-15T23:28:42.856-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Heist</title><content type='html'>David Mamet disappoints. The less said the better. It makes me wonder whether "Spartan" and "Redbelt" are flukes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-3005482968640524581?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/3005482968640524581/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=3005482968640524581' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/3005482968640524581'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/3005482968640524581'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/04/heist.html' title='Heist'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-8724595209046444969</id><published>2009-04-10T05:34:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-24T21:41:26.851-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Slumdog Millionaire</title><content type='html'>The last time I was in India, my girlfriend died. She was shot to death by a Russian assassin in Goa. Right after I went for a run on the beach. Since then I've been beat up, shot at, and chased, and I've never had a chance to deal with the loss of Marie Kreutz. So you'll understand that I have been wary of returning to India.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But return I must for the viewing of the lavishly praised film that is supposedly a crowd-pleaser. Before I saw it, I knew the bare bones of the plot, and I could guess that in the end the main character, Jamal, gets the money and the girl. Just a guess. And I must say, five minutes into the film, I also knew what the final question would be. And ten minutes in, I was thinking, isn't this just like "City of God," with the children learning life lessons as they grow up in the slums?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But that's getting ahead of ourselves. Let's first ask, what crowd is pleased by this? We see a little orphan blinded by molten liquid poured from a hot spoon, a kid covered in feces, the main character subjected to electrical and water torture, a mother beat to death with a bat, a man burned alive, and more kids left to horrible fates at the hands of thugs and gangsters. The same people who cheer for this film also were likely pleased by "I Spit on Your Grave" and "Inside."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps the crowd was pleased by the love story between Jamal and Latika, a girl who we hardly ever see and who spends very little on-screen time with Jamal. Other than the fact that Jamal finds her attractive, what does he love about her? We're not sure, because she has, like, five lines. Being attractive is reason enough for the film to make sense (see "Something New" for another example of this), but I'd like more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Director Danny Boyle does bring the verve to this project, but one can't help but wonder, is it the story that is thrilling, or is the camera doing all the work? It's like the cinematographer liked the multiple cameras of "Natural Born Killers," the dramatic effect of "Requiem for a Dream," and the handheld, nonstop use of, let's be honest, my films, and brought them all together. And then added some color to it all, making the slums look not pristine, but glorious. The film doesn't really convey the awfulness of being covered in other people's excrement when it looks like the person is shining and glittering like Edward Cullen in "Twilight." Now, I don't need a scene like that to look realistic, but the overall effect makes the life of a slumdog seem not as bad as it was depicted in "Born into Brothels." Ah, just another beautiful, colorful day of gleeful children cheerily running through the slums being chased by police while a song by M.I.A. plays in the background. What should be a terrifying experience is now a music video.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can a British director and writer and producers be more honest about India than India? Should we care that the film is essentially made by people who did not grow up in India? Why not, when we live in a world where Gandhi can be played by an Englishman. And Americans make films about other countries all the time, like "Rocky IV" and "Valkyrie." And those are historically and socially accurate, so I'm sure there's no problem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've seen it twice now, and I still don't know what to make of it. Everyone loves a winner, and who doesn't like a story about a poor man getting the girl and the money? "What a night!" the host of "Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?" says at the end. I just wish I had left the film thinking, What a movie! But I didn't.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-8724595209046444969?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/8724595209046444969/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=8724595209046444969' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/8724595209046444969'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/8724595209046444969'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/04/slumdog-millionaire.html' title='Slumdog Millionaire'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-7420478730985537523</id><published>2009-04-10T05:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-13T21:28:39.055-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Doubt</title><content type='html'>Decent acting, terrible filmmaking. And after it was over, I was left with the same question I had after reading the play: So what?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-7420478730985537523?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/7420478730985537523/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=7420478730985537523' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/7420478730985537523'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/7420478730985537523'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/04/doubt.html' title='Doubt'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-1147862545007466914</id><published>2009-04-06T16:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-23T19:19:54.740-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Cabaret</title><content type='html'>Lucille II stars in the Bob Fosse-an goings-on at 1931 Berlin's Kit Kat Klub. All the while, I was thinking of Armand's stage direction to the young stud in "The Birdcage," who wanted to know if he should "just stand there" while Nathan Lane sings: "You do an eclectic celebration of the dance. You do Fosse, Fosse, Fosse. You do Martha Graham, Martha Graham, Martha Graham. Or Twyla, Twyla, Twyla. Or Michael Kidd, Michael Kidd, Michael Kidd, Michael Kidd. Or Madonna, Madonna, Madonna. But you keep it all inside."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The movie makes clear what was clear to me after watching the play: the life of the Master of Ceremonies is much more interesting than anyone else. Let's see more of that. Less of Sally Bowles and her friends.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-1147862545007466914?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/1147862545007466914/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=1147862545007466914' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/1147862545007466914'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/1147862545007466914'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/04/cabaret.html' title='Cabaret'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-3798238683628837261</id><published>2009-04-06T11:52:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-06T14:53:51.967-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Five Easy Pieces</title><content type='html'>Not sure why I watched this. Whatever.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-3798238683628837261?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/3798238683628837261/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=3798238683628837261' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/3798238683628837261'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/3798238683628837261'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/04/five-easy-pieces.html' title='Five Easy Pieces'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-8335193603517852624</id><published>2009-03-30T06:12:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-23T19:16:46.721-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Baby Face</title><content type='html'>A girl tries to get whatever she wants by using men, as much as she can in a 1930's movie. She has a lot in common with Heather Graham's character in "Bowfinger." No reason to see this (except if you want to see a young John Wayne -- not worth it, in my book).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-8335193603517852624?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/8335193603517852624/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=8335193603517852624' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/8335193603517852624'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/8335193603517852624'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/03/baby-face.html' title='Baby Face'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-2182764748667854633</id><published>2009-03-29T10:36:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-23T19:15:07.928-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Bloody Valentine</title><content type='html'>Your usual miner-gone-crazy-and-kills-teenagers-annually flick. Except for some reason this is considered a cult classic, so classic enough it warranted a recent remake (which shall go unseen by this critic, knock on wood). The '80s horror film never really deviates from the formula of teens go off to make out, both are beheaded, others go looking for teens, get gutted, others make out, get burned, others go looking, get sliced. "Scream" really captures this well, and is more entertaining than the movies it used as its source material. Plus you get to see Deputy Dewey get the girl. Bonus.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-2182764748667854633?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/2182764748667854633/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=2182764748667854633' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/2182764748667854633'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/2182764748667854633'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/03/my-bloody-valentine.html' title='My Bloody Valentine'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-6895783477368259583</id><published>2009-03-25T06:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-23T19:32:04.927-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Religulous</title><content type='html'>Bill Maher takes religion (mostly Christianity) head-on. His movie has all the edification and engagingness of listening to one of the Als (Gore or Franken). It gets to the point where you're like, yes, I agree with you, but do you have anything new to say? It has some amusing moments, I guess, but nothing revelatory.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-6895783477368259583?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/6895783477368259583/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=6895783477368259583' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/6895783477368259583'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/6895783477368259583'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/03/religulous.html' title='Religulous'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-122440196142315395</id><published>2009-03-25T06:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-15T23:26:11.949-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Wages of Fear</title><content type='html'>Four guys are paid well to drive hypersensitive nitroglycerine across rocky terrain in order to stop a fire at an oil rig. It's a fairly long film, but it doesn't seem like it because you're on proverbial pins and needles waiting to see whether anyone might blow up. The way the film builds tension and maintains it is very well done. I found myself at one point actually biting my nails. Not deliberately. I think it stems more from it being about four in the morning and not being entirely clear what was going on. But still, I guess that makes this film technically a nail-biter.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-122440196142315395?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/122440196142315395/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=122440196142315395' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/122440196142315395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/122440196142315395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/03/wages-of-fear.html' title='The Wages of Fear'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-8220901063217616395</id><published>2009-03-25T06:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-15T23:13:16.214-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Role Models</title><content type='html'>Seann William Scott and Paul Rudd take some troubled youngsters under their wing in order to avoid jail. Along the way, everybody learns something about himself. And, for the most part, hilarity ensues. I probably think more highly of this movie than I should. I certainly wouldn't place it on the same level as some of the other adult comedies I've seen recently -- "Pineapple Express," "Hamlet 2," and parts of "Tropic Thunder."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But Rudd and Scott each give great performances. Scott especially. I like that guy. A lot of people probably thought he was done after playing Stifler in "American Pie." But he also played Stifler in "American Pie 2" and "American Wedding." And he's been in some great films: "Final Destination," "Dude, Where's My Car?", "Southland Tales," and, my favorite, "The Rundown," which is like a cross between Joseph Conrad's "Nostromo" and "Repo Man."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-8220901063217616395?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/8220901063217616395/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=8220901063217616395' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/8220901063217616395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/8220901063217616395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/03/role-models.html' title='Role Models'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-1876996841608342402</id><published>2009-03-23T04:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-23T05:35:44.700-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fist of Fury</title><content type='html'>An early Bruce Lee movie chronicling the conflict between Chinese and Japanese martial arts schools. "Enter the Dragon" is better in just about every respect. However, "Fist of Fury" does have one of the best dubbed lines for a Hong Kong film: "Does the name Wu mean anything?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-1876996841608342402?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/1876996841608342402/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=1876996841608342402' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/1876996841608342402'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/1876996841608342402'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/03/fist-of-fury.html' title='Fist of Fury'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-4187253745727535029</id><published>2009-03-21T22:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-23T05:28:46.027-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Milk</title><content type='html'>The ending thanks the Oscar-winning documentary "The Times of Harvey Milk" for its contribution to the film. As well it should. If a biopic covers the same ground as a documentary, why make the biopic? Because that question goes unanswered, the film suffers from the same fatal flaw as "Ali," the last half hour of which is just a lesser version of "When We Were Kings." The overall effect is better than "Paranoid Park" and Gus Van Sant's other walking epics, but it's no "Good Will Hunting."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Van Sant does give us some great work, though, especially when he veers from the ground already covered and instead depicts the personal lives of gay men in the '70s. Sean Penn and James Franco are good together. I also recall a blue-hued wrestling match between Penn and his second boyfriend, a scene that recalls a certain blue-hued fight scene from "Double Impact." But the problem is that these moments are interspersed with the biopic-required rote scenes of political talk, marches, meetings, etc., and that doesn't do much for me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-4187253745727535029?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/4187253745727535029/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=4187253745727535029' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/4187253745727535029'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/4187253745727535029'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/03/milk.html' title='Milk'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-7932544025282815538</id><published>2009-03-21T22:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-23T05:22:02.122-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Transporter 3</title><content type='html'>Stupid dialogue, gratuitous shirtless fight scenes, ridiculous car chases. Nothing more, nothing less.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-7932544025282815538?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/7932544025282815538/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=7932544025282815538' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/7932544025282815538'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/7932544025282815538'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/03/transporter-3.html' title='Transporter 3'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-1878722382397067864</id><published>2009-03-20T22:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-23T05:21:48.098-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Rachel Getting Married</title><content type='html'>A jittery, Greengrassian camera captures the drama that unfolds when Anne Hathaway, a recovering addict, attends her sister's wedding. The sister's name is Rachel. There are two kinds of scenes: everyday, seemingly improvised scenes that unfold like an exercise in a college drama class trying to mimic the beginning of "The Deer Hunter" (Do we need to see 10 minutes of toasts at a rehearsal dinner? Fans of this film: Yes. Me: No.); and intense melodrama of the "21 Grams" variety. It's too bad because the wildly vacillating content distracts from an otherwise finely acted film. Hathaway almost makes up for her work in "Havoc."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-1878722382397067864?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/1878722382397067864/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=1878722382397067864' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/1878722382397067864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/1878722382397067864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/03/rachel-getting-married.html' title='Rachel Getting Married'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-2011583241279945442</id><published>2009-03-20T05:46:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-23T05:32:43.719-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Let the Right One In</title><content type='html'>This Swedish vampire love story comes out of nowhere. It's an affecting but stoic film of two souls finding each other: one, Oskar, an exceedingly blond wuss, and the other, a pale 12-year-old vampire girl who often has blood on her face. It's steady and not driven by music or special effects, but every once in a while, she eats people with unexpected ferocity. I'm a fan of this one. It might serve as a nice double feature with "Twilight," except that this is one to watch after the 13-year-old girls (and occasional 30-something-year-old girls) go to sleep.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-2011583241279945442?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/2011583241279945442/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=2011583241279945442' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/2011583241279945442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/2011583241279945442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/03/let-right-one-in.html' title='Let the Right One In'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-4855712603473916449</id><published>2009-03-18T06:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-23T04:56:18.091-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Duck Soup</title><content type='html'>This was my first -- and hopefully last -- experience with the Marx Brothers: Groucho, Harpo, Chico, and Zeppo. The plot, not that it matters, follows Rufus T. Firefly, a punning wiseacre, who becomes the leader of the country of Freedonia and leads it into war. Most of the jokes are of the "That shirt looks very becoming on you" variety, except dumber. And the silent Chico, who honks horns and uses scissors to limited comedic effect, is almost as annoying as the star of "Happy-Go-Lucky." I suspect these guys were their generation's Rodney Dangerfield: inexplicably appreciated.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-4855712603473916449?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/4855712603473916449/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=4855712603473916449' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/4855712603473916449'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/4855712603473916449'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/03/duck-soup.html' title='Duck Soup'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-3959479060130452688</id><published>2009-03-17T06:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-23T05:04:23.246-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dracula</title><content type='html'>A few times, I thought that Renfield, the dude that Dracula terrorizes, is similar to Gollum, especially when he says, "Yes, master," and "No, master," and freaks out when wolfsbane is brought close to him. Parts of this classic are also well played, such as when Val Helsing learns that Dracula doesn't appear in mirrors. It's certainly not scary, though.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-3959479060130452688?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/3959479060130452688/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=3959479060130452688' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/3959479060130452688'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/3959479060130452688'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/03/dracula.html' title='Dracula'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-7719250523387696019</id><published>2009-03-14T23:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-24T23:51:14.556-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Synecdoche, New York</title><content type='html'>Charlie Kaufman's directorial debut is about what you'd expect. It's an odd tale of a director who writes and directs a play about his life, where the characters and actors interact with real people and the gets more and more absorbed in his play world. Anyone who has seen the Bjork video for "Bachelorette" will wonder why it wasn't credited with inspiring this movie. So much for the reputed originality of Mr. Kaufman's work.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-7719250523387696019?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/7719250523387696019/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=7719250523387696019' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/7719250523387696019'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/7719250523387696019'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/03/synecdoche-new-york.html' title='Synecdoche, New York'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-7730377631371595845</id><published>2009-03-14T07:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-23T04:53:44.114-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy-Go-Lucky</title><content type='html'>An almost unwatchable British POS "comedy." It's like watching a bad Ricky Gervais imitator doing an impression of SNL's Bloder brothers (Jimmy Fallon and Chris Parnell). Here's typical dialogue. A frustrated driving instructor says, "Bear with me." The heroine, chuckling nervously, says, "Where is he?" The film follows this happy-go-lucky (hence the title) teacher as she goes about her life. She's the kind of teacher who will stare out the window at a kid during recess being beat up, and then she'll do something about it . . . the second time it happens. That's right. She watches the first time, then asks her angry driving instructor if he was beat up as a kid, and then the second time the kid is on the ground being hit in the face, she tries to stop it. A fine teacher.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Never watch this movie.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-7730377631371595845?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/7730377631371595845/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=7730377631371595845' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/7730377631371595845'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/7730377631371595845'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/03/happy-go-lucky.html' title='Happy-Go-Lucky'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-8483433467791654935</id><published>2009-03-13T06:19:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-23T05:12:07.030-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Wizard of Oz</title><content type='html'>The whole premise of this film is absurd: from the beginning, we're supposed to not sympathize with someone who is upset that a dog bit her. What an evil woman, acting mad that Toto bit her. Instead, we're supposed to side with Lucille Ostero Sr., whose innocent dog did nothing but bite a woman on the leg. But anyway, then the Wicked Witch of the East is killed and Glinda, the Witch of the North, advises Dorothy to follow the yellow brick road to the Emerald City. I always fell asleep before the ending, so I never knew the Emerald City has a shop of massage therapists, where the Cowardly Lion gets a perm. Then the Wicked Witch of the West, who looks an awful lot like Almira Gulch, melts due to water. The wizard says, "Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain." And that's about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The reason to watch it a second time? The Lollipop Guild and the Lullaby League.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-8483433467791654935?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/8483433467791654935/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=8483433467791654935' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/8483433467791654935'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/8483433467791654935'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/03/wizard-of-oz.html' title='The Wizard of Oz'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-4232483975155410068</id><published>2009-03-08T22:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-23T04:40:19.848-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Thief of Bagdad</title><content type='html'>This 140-minute silent film from the 1920's is one of those classics you can watch once and check off your list, and then ask why it was on your list. It's an Arabian Nights fantasy that begins and ends with the phrase "Happiness must be earned," spelled out in the stars. It of course reminds me of "Aladdin," which to the average filmgoer will be the more interesting film. I'm not into these movies (the silent type), and I don't know why I keep trying to watch them, but this one does seem to have it all: stunts, trick photography, impressive sets, monsters. It doesn't do much for me now, but it's obvious that back in the day this would have impressed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-4232483975155410068?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/4232483975155410068/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=4232483975155410068' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/4232483975155410068'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/4232483975155410068'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/03/thief-of-bagdad.html' title='The Thief of Bagdad'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-416195575001340130</id><published>2009-03-07T08:06:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-23T04:57:03.003-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Maltese Falcon</title><content type='html'>Clearly inspired by "Brick."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-416195575001340130?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/416195575001340130/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=416195575001340130' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/416195575001340130'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/416195575001340130'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/03/maltese-falcon.html' title='The Maltese Falcon'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-3650533585015354547</id><published>2009-03-07T08:06:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-23T04:43:14.742-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pan's Labyrinth</title><content type='html'>This really is a good film, but SPOILER ALERT I don't know how I feel about the scene where the bad guy doesn't see the faun. Why ruin it? Why explicitly show us that it's all in her head? Maybe a third time will change my mind.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-3650533585015354547?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/3650533585015354547/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=3650533585015354547' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/3650533585015354547'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/3650533585015354547'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/03/pans-labyrinth.html' title='Pan&apos;s Labyrinth'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-6119409908541554944</id><published>2009-03-02T07:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-23T04:46:08.215-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon</title><content type='html'>Ang Lee's films, at least this and "Brokeback Mountain," grow on me with each viewing. I remember the first time I saw this, I was tepid about it. It was a'ight. Now I've seen it at least five times, and I'm finally starting to see what all the hype was about when it originally came out. It also makes a nice companion film to "Brokeback," in its depiction of a relationship that should exist but can't because of the world around the lovers.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-6119409908541554944?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/6119409908541554944/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=6119409908541554944' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/6119409908541554944'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/6119409908541554944'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/03/crouching-tiger-hidden-dragon.html' title='Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-7261749692148119723</id><published>2009-03-01T20:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-01T20:47:28.984-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Wolf Man</title><content type='html'>It takes a cheap old-timey attempt at a horror flick to make the special effects of "Teen Wolf" seem revelatory. This may have scared back in the day, but now not so much.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-7261749692148119723?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/7261749692148119723/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=7261749692148119723' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/7261749692148119723'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/7261749692148119723'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/03/wolf-man.html' title='The Wolf Man'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-7394965363686657415</id><published>2009-03-01T10:49:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-07T08:25:58.893-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear Zachary</title><content type='html'>A documentary about the filmmaker's longtime friend, who was murdered by his crazy older girlfriend. (No one really explains why he was dating a crazy, older woman in the first place. Whatever, go with it.) The film features interviews with the friend's friends, so we see a picture of him as a person. It also details what ensues when the killer flees to Canada and announces she's pregnant with his baby. What happens next is better left unsaid, like the film "Million Dollar Baby." Suffice it to say, the film stands as a testament to what grandparents will do for their grandchildren.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do have some quibbles, though. The subject matter is compelling; I cried at the end, several different times. Which makes the filmmaker's heavy-handed techniques criticizing Canada and the killer backfire. Simple narration would do; we don't need soapbox antics. Also, the film at times feels a bit too personal, almost like "Tarnation," to the point where it may be relevant and meaningful for those who knew him, but not for us.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-7394965363686657415?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/7394965363686657415/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=7394965363686657415' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/7394965363686657415'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/7394965363686657415'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/03/dear-zachary.html' title='Dear Zachary'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-3935727641125184251</id><published>2009-02-28T18:00:00.003-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-23T04:37:33.239-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Closely Watched Trains</title><content type='html'>A black-and-white Czechoslovakian film about men who work at a train station during World War II and watch women with more avidity than trains. I don't have anything to say about it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-3935727641125184251?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/3935727641125184251/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=3935727641125184251' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/3935727641125184251'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/3935727641125184251'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/02/closely-watched-trains.html' title='Closely Watched Trains'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-7246654997137881830</id><published>2009-02-28T18:00:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-23T05:01:04.344-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Changeling</title><content type='html'>A frustrating (in a powerful way) look at early 20th-Century LA, run by corrupt police and its Gun Squad. A woman comes home to find her child is gone, the police do nothing and later return to her a boy. For the next hour and a half, Angelina says, "He's not my son," with varying degrees of volume and emphasis. (Angie here has two acting volumes: muted and LOUD.) No one listens, except a John Malkovichian pretentious pastor. The press is in the police department's pocket, and she is sent to the hospital as a crazy woman. Powerful stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then she's released, and the compelling stuff ends. The last fourth of the movie is a procedural tying up of loose ends: what happens during the police hearings, what happens to the killer. With all due respect, the story here is a corrupt police force ruining this woman's life. It's not the people who may have killed her son. That's a side story, tangential to what's good, and the ending drags down an otherwise great Clint Eastwood film.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-7246654997137881830?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/7246654997137881830/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=7246654997137881830' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/7246654997137881830'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/7246654997137881830'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/02/changeling.html' title='Changeling'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-7051686310685973530</id><published>2009-02-24T07:21:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-23T04:32:56.627-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pineapple Express</title><content type='html'>The ever scene-ruining Seth Rogan witnesses a murder, and he goes on the lam with his drug dealer, played by James Franco. Franco plays perhaps the best stoner drug dealer I've ever seen. Every line he utters is priceless. And he more than makes up for Rogan's increasingly useless onscreen attempts at acting. This is a film to buy and memorize half the lines of.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-7051686310685973530?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/7051686310685973530/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=7051686310685973530' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/7051686310685973530'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/7051686310685973530'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/02/pineapple-express.html' title='Pineapple Express'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-409104717848352520</id><published>2009-02-21T20:14:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-23T04:30:34.341-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Day for Night</title><content type='html'>A classic Francois Truffaut film about a filmmaker, played by Truffaut, making a movie. It probably lends itself better to essays by film studies students than short paragraphs by a fly-by-night online film critic, so I'll just leave it at that. For what it's worth, I enjoyed it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-409104717848352520?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/409104717848352520/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=409104717848352520' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/409104717848352520'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/409104717848352520'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/02/day-for-night.html' title='Day for Night'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-5541368289247226575</id><published>2009-02-18T06:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-01T10:59:31.120-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tokyo Gore Police</title><content type='html'>Do you remember when you saw "Robocop 3" and thought, wow, they should really remake this as a Japanese movie with an absurd amount of chopped limbs and blood splatter? And I mean, a Peter Jackson trying to outdo Peter Jackson amount of "Dead Alive" blood and severed limbs? And you wanted that film to have lines like, "I am an able eulogist"? Well, someone listened to you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The film takes on the commercialization of violence, making the same points as "Natural Born Killers." It also emphasizes the transformative nature of people. One person has become (probably against his or her will) a chair -- I can't explain how. One woman's legs become a Venus Flytrap. Another person dressed like the gimp has swords for legs. A man's brain emerges from the top of his skull, two gun chambers protrude from his eyes, and he starts firing projectiles at the heroine (the woman from "Audition"). Basically, as the film goes on, it gets more and more -- for lack of a better word -- Japanese.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-5541368289247226575?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/5541368289247226575/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=5541368289247226575' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/5541368289247226575'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/5541368289247226575'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/02/tokyo-gore-police.html' title='Tokyo Gore Police'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-4392501903545597817</id><published>2009-02-17T05:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-07T08:39:53.035-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Frankenstein</title><content type='html'>Unlike Mary Shelley's "Frankenstein" and "Mary Shelley's Frankenstein," the 1931 film doesn't portray the monster as sympathetic and Frankenstein gets away fine. In other words, the filmmakers completely missed the point of the story, which is finding the monster in man and the man in monster. Perhaps this paved the way for other horror movies blah blah blah, but I'd rather watch the movies that are farther along that paved path.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-4392501903545597817?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/4392501903545597817/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=4392501903545597817' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/4392501903545597817'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/4392501903545597817'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/02/frankenstein.html' title='Frankenstein'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-8505262798041874619</id><published>2009-02-16T15:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-21T20:13:37.575-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Encino Man</title><content type='html'>I'm still satisfied by this story of weazing, grindage, weasels, and greasy and crusty people. Michael DeLuise was robbed for not getting an Oscar for his portrayal of Matt "Shoosh" Wilson.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In case it comes in handy during a Trivial Pursuit game, people like me who have seen five Pauly Shore movies in a row (including "Jury Duty" -- ouch) know that this is one of three collaborations between Shore and Brendan Fraser. Fraser appears briefly in "In the Army Now" and "Son-in-Law" as someone who eats a frog.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-8505262798041874619?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/8505262798041874619/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=8505262798041874619' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/8505262798041874619'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/8505262798041874619'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/02/encino-man.html' title='Encino Man'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-8104861207115270654</id><published>2009-02-16T09:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-21T20:07:08.713-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Friday the 13th</title><content type='html'>The original. Not the remake. "Jason was my son, and today is his birthday." What a great line. It's up there with the line from "Bloodsport," "Frank Dukes. Like put up your dukes, right?" The plot sets a low bar for a curse: Jason drowned, and then two counselors were killed. Three deaths = eternal terror? I don't think so. A burial ground, nuclear waste, something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The ending raises questions. Is Jason real, or part of Adrienne's imagination? Did he kill the others, or was it Mrs. Voorhees? And why is Jason still a kid if he drowned 22 years ago? That's enough unexplained plot elements to justify a sequel. &lt;em&gt;A&lt;/em&gt; sequel.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-8104861207115270654?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/8104861207115270654/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=8104861207115270654' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/8104861207115270654'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/8104861207115270654'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/02/friday-13th.html' title='Friday the 13th'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-8928022231950230827</id><published>2009-02-16T07:11:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-23T04:27:46.839-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Audition</title><content type='html'>Not necessarily scary, but certainly twisted, and it does what good horror does: evaluates the fabric of society. The girl is scary. A movie critic once said, regarding "No Country for Old Men," that when Hannibal Lector has nightmares, he's thinking of Anton Chigurh. If I may elaborate on this, Chigurh's dreams are probably haunted by this freaky chick.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-8928022231950230827?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/8928022231950230827/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=8928022231950230827' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/8928022231950230827'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/8928022231950230827'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/02/audition.html' title='Audition'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-5592767590238376728</id><published>2009-02-16T07:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-07T08:18:34.782-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Stagecoach</title><content type='html'>Geronimo and his band of Apaches are out to attack the good white people on the western frontier. Good thing John Wayne is riding shotgun in the stagecoach. Hence the title, "Stagecoach." Given recent events, I found most interesting the character of the banker. In the eponymous stagecoach rides a banker who repeatedly iterates, rather forcefully, his opinion that what's good for banks is good for the country. Nobody should question the banks. And what is he doing in the stagecoach? He's fleeing the jurisdiction because he's ripping off the payroll deposit for the mine. Prescient.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-5592767590238376728?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/5592767590238376728/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=5592767590238376728' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/5592767590238376728'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/5592767590238376728'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/02/stagecoach.html' title='Stagecoach'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-3469498416501427702</id><published>2009-02-14T18:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-01T11:01:22.593-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Inner Senses</title><content type='html'>A Chinese ghost story. I'm writing this about a week after I saw it, and I can't remember a thing about the film. That means there are better ways to spend your time than watching this movie.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-3469498416501427702?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/3469498416501427702/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=3469498416501427702' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/3469498416501427702'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/3469498416501427702'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/02/inner-senses.html' title='Inner Senses'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-993119722429935541</id><published>2009-02-13T05:19:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-14T19:10:10.573-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Poison Ivy 4: The Secret Society</title><content type='html'>Ahem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They should have stopped at 3. Or rather, they should have made 3 first and stopped there. If they had to make a second, 2 was probably okay. The first should have been third, but only if they really needed to make it. This is well placed at fourth. Although, if they make 5, there's a good chance 4 should have been fifth, and 5 should have been fourth. Just watch 3.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-993119722429935541?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/993119722429935541/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=993119722429935541' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/993119722429935541'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/993119722429935541'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/02/poison-ivy-4-secret-society.html' title='Poison Ivy 4: The Secret Society'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-3742720445317252329</id><published>2009-02-08T07:59:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-07T08:11:59.654-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dorm</title><content type='html'>A Thai ghost story that has a promising beginning, with some cleverly done scenes of eerie freakiness. Then, almost inexplicably, it turns into a sentimental story about a dead boy's ghost bonding with a lonely boy at a boarding school. A tad incongruous, I would say.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-3742720445317252329?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/3742720445317252329/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=3742720445317252329' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/3742720445317252329'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/3742720445317252329'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/02/dorm.html' title='Dorm'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-2547578216849752322</id><published>2009-02-08T07:59:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-07T08:09:16.646-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bloody Reunion</title><content type='html'>Students gather to celebrate a former teacher. Too bad there's a psycho on the loose who makes the reunion bloody. It's not just a clever title. A fair-to-moderate Korean horror film, with a twist at the end (as they all seem to have).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-2547578216849752322?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/2547578216849752322/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=2547578216849752322' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/2547578216849752322'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/2547578216849752322'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/02/bloody-reunion.html' title='Bloody Reunion'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-3130104193895243927</id><published>2009-02-03T05:35:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-23T04:25:09.183-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Host</title><content type='html'>My second time through, I think more highly of this Korean monster movie. It's got horror, action, an insightful take on modern society in the midst of a crisis. Hot stuff.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-3130104193895243927?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/3130104193895243927/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=3130104193895243927' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/3130104193895243927'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/3130104193895243927'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/02/host.html' title='The Host'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-8932114304012455112</id><published>2009-02-03T05:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-07T08:26:41.209-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ringu</title><content type='html'>Not as scary as I remembered.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-8932114304012455112?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/8932114304012455112/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=8932114304012455112' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/8932114304012455112'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/8932114304012455112'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/02/ringu.html' title='Ringu'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-495989349752712608</id><published>2009-01-29T05:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-21T20:00:58.850-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Koma</title><content type='html'>A Hong Kong horror film involving an organ thief, a love triangle, and characters named Ling, Ching, and Ming. I got lost. It's not great.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-495989349752712608?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/495989349752712608/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=495989349752712608' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/495989349752712608'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/495989349752712608'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/01/koma.html' title='Koma'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-1584870495820572782</id><published>2009-01-27T06:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-21T20:16:48.599-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Visitor</title><content type='html'>A quiet, sober film that reminds me of "Starting Out in the Evening." A lonely professor finds a couple living in his apartment, and he gets involved in their lives. The new friends and experiences open his eyes and, as is clear from the powerful ending, he learns to live again. The plot intelligently takes on our country's immigration policy. I love the scene where one character says almost under her breath that the US policy reminds her of Syria.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-1584870495820572782?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/1584870495820572782/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=1584870495820572782' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/1584870495820572782'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/1584870495820572782'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/01/visitor.html' title='The Visitor'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-1461649683895914287</id><published>2009-01-25T10:07:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-26T07:12:48.882-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Heavenly Creatures</title><content type='html'>Peter Jackson directs this true story of two girls in New Zealand whose budding Sapphic love disturbs their parents, and the girls resort to extreme means to stay together. This is it, as far as answering my question about what Jackson film led people to think he could make "The Lord of the Rings." The storytelling and acting is far beyond the other films he made up to this point. He improved even more with his great, subsequent "The Frighteners."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Heavenly Creatures" also features elaborate, creative special effects sequences where he tries to evoke the fantasy world the two girls create. They are writing a fantasy novel together, and every so often the characters come to life, the girls are dancing in a castle, and once -- one time -- a ring drops on the ground. A ring!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-1461649683895914287?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/1461649683895914287/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=1461649683895914287' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/1461649683895914287'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/1461649683895914287'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/01/heavenly-creatures.html' title='Heavenly Creatures'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-3138133759578739632</id><published>2009-01-25T07:44:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-25T10:04:30.291-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Legend of Drunken Master</title><content type='html'>For a long time, I've wanted to see good Jackie Chan films, but I've found his oeuvre impenetrable because he's made, like, a gagillion films. And of course by oeuvre, I don't mind stuff like "Rush Hour," "Rush Hour 2," or dare I say it, "Rush Hour 3." But then I saw this movie listed on Time Magazine's list of the top 100 films of all time, and I thought this might be a good place to start.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a side note, I wouldn't put too much stock in the Time list. After all, I assume it was compiled at least in part by the ridiculous Time critic who raved about "Superman Returns," which in this critic's opinion was a shockingly terrible movie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As it turns out, the questionable validity of that list does not detract from the quality of "The Legend of Drunken Master," the story of a drunken boxer who is tasked with recovering a Chinese artifact before the British ship it out of the country. It's all poorly dubbed, although not nearly to the comedic effect of other Hong Kong martial arts films. Of course, dialogue is never the reason to see a movie like this. Rather, we want the action. And while I generally find most action sequences dull and I can take 'em or leave 'em, these fights were some of the more impressively choreographed and executed fight scenes I've ever seen. Though I'm sure films influenced this, I'm equally sure this film directly influenced "Kung Fu Hustle," "Kill Bill: Vol. 1," and "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon," especially in its depiction of an ax gang and the fight in a two-story restaurant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that I've seen a great Hong Kong Jackie Chan film, I'd like to see another, but I'm still left with the daunting task of deciding which of his other umpteen million films to see.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-3138133759578739632?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/3138133759578739632/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=3138133759578739632' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/3138133759578739632'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/3138133759578739632'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/01/legend-of-drunken-master.html' title='The Legend of Drunken Master'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-2544373169452827026</id><published>2009-01-22T06:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-22T07:07:38.123-08:00</updated><title type='text'>81st Annual Academy Awards: And the films I haven't seen are . . .</title><content type='html'>For me, the big categories are best picture, director, screenplay (original and adapted), all the acting categories, foreign language film, and documentary. By my count, one would need to see 28 films to see every nominee this year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's what I've seen: two films that received best supporting actor nominations, two films nominated for best original screenplay, and two films nominated for best documentary. I have at home a DVD that received a best actor nomination, but I haven't seen it yet. So what about the other 21? They haven't been released on DVD yet, which means they came out within the last couple months.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some have questioned the wisdom of my one-man boycott of every film released in December. After all, if I want to watch good movies, shouldn't I just watch movies released in December and boycott movies the other 11 months of the year? I might be better off, but I'm sticking to my plan. It's the principle that matters. The problem isn't that Hollywood releases bad movies; they always have, they always will. The problem is that they horde the supposedly good stuff and try to manufacture interest by this big spectacle called the Oscars. And this critic, because he views movies, is supposed to care about these awards and have an educated opinion about these movies he hasn't seen. So he's supposed to go to theaters with other like-minded film viewers and bear witness to the best of the year. Well, I refuse. I'd rather watch "Rambo" a second time. But I probably won't.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-2544373169452827026?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/2544373169452827026/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=2544373169452827026' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/2544373169452827026'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/2544373169452827026'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/01/81st-annual-academy-awards-and-films-i.html' title='81st Annual Academy Awards: And the films I haven&apos;t seen are . . .'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-9216326685624345749</id><published>2009-01-21T19:39:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-22T07:03:41.103-08:00</updated><title type='text'>24: Redemption</title><content type='html'>Yawn. Oh, pardon me. I've been sleeping for the last 90 minutes or so watching an imposter "24." It's like watching "Friday the 13th Part V: A New Beginning" masquerading as an entry in the esteemed series, even though Jason Voorhees doesn't terrorize the campers. It's like watching the imposter Bond film "Never Say Never Again," even though it has no Broccoli producing it, has no characteristic Bond title theme, has no one-liners, and is a poor remake of "Thunderball."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No "We don't have time," no Bauer as we know him, no well done action sequences. Just real time, real dull. Not a fan.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-9216326685624345749?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/9216326685624345749/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=9216326685624345749' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/9216326685624345749'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/9216326685624345749'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/01/24-redemption.html' title='24: Redemption'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-8644556811192985735</id><published>2009-01-20T06:47:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-21T20:00:21.789-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Taking of Pelham One Two Three</title><content type='html'>I watched this because I read the remake will be the next Tony Scott movie. Readers of this blog may know that I think Tony is one of the best directors working today. This movie is about four bandits who hijack an NYC subway car and try to make off with a ransom. It's got a retro '70s appeal and a killer ending. Me gusta un poco.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-8644556811192985735?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/8644556811192985735/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=8644556811192985735' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/8644556811192985735'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/8644556811192985735'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/01/taking-of-pelham-one-two-three.html' title='The Taking of Pelham One Two Three'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-8354661314977468440</id><published>2009-01-16T06:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-07T08:14:59.307-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hellboy II: The Golden Army</title><content type='html'>Everyone's favorite son of the devil with his horns cut off whose girlfriend is Selma Blair is back!! And it's a seemingly endlessly creative take on the tired comic-book-adaptation genre. I know that I blinked while I watched it, so I know I missed some good stuff -- it's that packed with visual goodness. Guillermo Del Toro is an impressive director, and producers should continue to give him buckets of money so he can make expensive, pop-culture-rich blockbusting spectaculars like this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-8354661314977468440?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/8354661314977468440/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=8354661314977468440' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/8354661314977468440'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/8354661314977468440'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/01/hellboy-ii-golden-army.html' title='Hellboy II: The Golden Army'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-5327010072813976493</id><published>2009-01-13T19:05:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-21T23:25:49.794-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Encounters at the End of the World</title><content type='html'>The inexplicably appreciated and prolific Werner Herzog machine keeps on churning out poorly narrated documentaries. This time he tries to cash in on the recent South Pole craze (see "March of the Penguins," "Happy Feet," "Surf's Up," "The Thing," etc.). His style -- this is not my kind of style. Except for a few wry observations about his interviewees, I don't find his insights that, well, insightful.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-5327010072813976493?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/5327010072813976493/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=5327010072813976493' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/5327010072813976493'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/5327010072813976493'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/01/encounters-at-end-of-world.html' title='Encounters at the End of the World'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-3268968893947426607</id><published>2009-01-12T06:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-21T23:24:34.334-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Snow Angels</title><content type='html'>Lives intersect in a small town as tragedy strikes. Blah, blah, we've all seen it before. Other than an inspired choice of setting the opening credits to a high school band playing Peter Gabriel's "Sledgehammer," I can't think of a reason for anyone to see this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-3268968893947426607?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/3268968893947426607/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=3268968893947426607' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/3268968893947426607'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/3268968893947426607'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/01/snow-angels.html' title='Snow Angels'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-1143013893804343398</id><published>2009-01-08T07:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-14T18:54:46.135-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Foot Fist Way</title><content type='html'>"Hot Rod" meets "Redbelt." A struggling dojo owner tries to keep his marriage intact while he inappropriately teaches and disciplines his martial arts students. It's okay for a cheaply done, handheld-camcorder-filmed-looking raunchy comedy, but a lot of the jokes fall flat. Awkward humor is not always my bag. Although, one line from the movie is stuck in my head. In a tender moment with his wife, the main character means to say, "I'm vulnerable," but instead says, "I'm penetrable." That's precious.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-1143013893804343398?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/1143013893804343398/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=1143013893804343398' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/1143013893804343398'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/1143013893804343398'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/01/foot-fist-way.html' title='The Foot Fist Way'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-6200294778386584830</id><published>2009-01-02T19:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-21T19:58:56.730-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Fall</title><content type='html'>"The Princess Bride" meets "Pan's Labyrinth" meets "Beau Travail." Visually, it's simply stunning. Plotwise, it's zzz. . . Too bad.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-6200294778386584830?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/6200294778386584830/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=6200294778386584830' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/6200294778386584830'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/6200294778386584830'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/01/fall.html' title='The Fall'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-5607891794280618080</id><published>2009-01-01T08:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-01T08:54:50.961-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Paranoid Park</title><content type='html'>By my count, this is the fifth in an occasional series by Gus Van Sant exploring the ways people walk. This time, we watch a young sk8ter boy walk through the city of Portland. Van Sant also uses a level of slow motion not seen since "The Passion of the Christ." There's a backstory of skating culture and a murdered security guard, but its secondary to the walking. And for a 90-minute film, it felt to me like it was twice as long.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-5607891794280618080?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/5607891794280618080/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=5607891794280618080' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/5607891794280618080'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/5607891794280618080'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2009/01/paranoid-park.html' title='Paranoid Park'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-2533213794936734171</id><published>2008-12-31T05:40:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-14T19:08:27.941-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Confessions of a Dangerous Mind</title><content type='html'>One of my New Year's resolutions: rewatch Charlie Kaufman films. I just don't like his movies, but film nuts seem to like him, so I'll give him another go. He wrote this adaptation of the autobiography of the host of "The Gong Show" and "The Dating Game." The host claims in his spare time he was a government assassin. He seems nuts. The film does a nice job of portraying Chuck Barris's character as someone who was probably, for all intents and purposes, totally schizo, but without it coming across as comic or condescending.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The film's decent, but not really Kaufman-esque, which I don't mind. My Wikipedia research indicates Kaufman is upset because George Clooney (who directed) edited the script and didn't consult with Kaufman. You know what, Charlie? Suck it up. You're not that great a writer, and there's nothing wrong with a director trying to make the incoherent coherent.  One can only imagine the pretentious fantasy world Kaufman envisioned, or the fourth-wall-ish ideas he had for this gem of a film idea. Even though I'm not the biggest Clooney-as-director fan ("Michael Clayton" blew like the wind), I will say this is probably better than what Kaufman had in mind.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-2533213794936734171?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/2533213794936734171/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=2533213794936734171' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/2533213794936734171'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/2533213794936734171'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2008/12/confessions-of-dangerous-mind.html' title='Confessions of a Dangerous Mind'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-6211267367115828629</id><published>2008-12-31T05:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-21T23:20:00.690-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bad Taste</title><content type='html'>Peter Jackson's first film, a gory zombie/alien action/adventure/comedy. If I made this over the weekend with my friends and a budget of $30, I'd be very proud of myself. But it really begs the question how this director was given hundreds of millions of dollars to make "The Lord of the Rings." It certainly wasn't on the basis of this film. So what was it? "The Frighteners"? "Dead Alive"? Someone tell me!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-6211267367115828629?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/6211267367115828629/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=6211267367115828629' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/6211267367115828629'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/6211267367115828629'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2008/12/bad-taste.html' title='Bad Taste'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-9093665228813559990</id><published>2008-12-29T06:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-26T07:24:19.044-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Baghead</title><content type='html'>One of the so-called DIY, mumblecore movies. According to Wikipedia, these movies are characterized by "ultra-low budget production (often employing digital video cameras), focus on personal relationships between twenty-somethings, improvised scripts, and non-professional actors." However, to my mind, these movies are characterized by bad acting, bad scripts, and a complete lack of story. I must say, though, of the mumblecore movies I've seen, "Baghead" is by far the best. Considering how the others I've seen are unwatchable, that's not saying much. But still, the movie has a good premise: a pair of couples go to a cabin for the weekend to write a movie, but things go awry when a man with a bag on his head makes an unexpected appearance. What follows is supposed to be horror, I guess, but "Halloween" was more terrifying and was also made on a fairly small budget. So if you want to see horror, watch "Halloween," but if you want to watch mumblecore horror . . . just watch "Halloween" instead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Though this critic watched the whole thing, the Just Bourne Critic was not as excited and continued to sleep. Thus, this critic happened to catch most of "Something New" on the Oxygen channel. A few observations. One, viewers of the Oxygen channel must love diets and perfume. Two, I was left with a few questions about "Something New." Usually in a movie like this, where two opposites attract, each one learns a little about his- or herself before they come together at the end. Here, he never changed; she never taught him anything. That seemed odd to me. Also, we never really get to see his friends. Again, in the opposites attract genre, I think it's typical to see both sides. But since "Something New" is told from her perspective, and it's all about how she changes and how her friends and family view the situation, I'm willing to live with those aspects of the film. After watching it, some may ask themselves, why would any man put up with someone who can be condescending, high-strung, and high-maintenance. If you want the answer, take another look at the actress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Still Sleeping Critic also let this critic catch some of "Fargo" on AMC, where the language is edited. A few observations. One, it's a great film. Two, the f-word was used as an adjective three times before I stopped watching, and each time it was replaced with a different dubbed word: frozen, frugal, and then fruitless. Interesting.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-9093665228813559990?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/9093665228813559990/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=9093665228813559990' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/9093665228813559990'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/9093665228813559990'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2008/12/baghead.html' title='Baghead'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-6581123205891867437</id><published>2008-12-28T12:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-21T23:19:03.794-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Duchess</title><content type='html'>The movie everyone wanted -- the real story of the Duchess of Devonshire, which plays like a cross between "Marie Antoinette" and "The Other Boleyn Girl." No wait, I was wrong. No one was asking for that movie. Nor should they.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-6581123205891867437?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/6581123205891867437/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=6581123205891867437' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/6581123205891867437'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/6581123205891867437'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2008/12/duchess.html' title='The Duchess'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-4281769836797181945</id><published>2008-12-27T06:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-27T06:52:42.345-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The House Bunny</title><content type='html'>Five seconds in, I was like, "Jesus Christ." A few minutes later I was more like, "Oh my God." But then I settled in and the movie found its stride and I enjoyed it. It never really rises above being a second-rate "Legally Blonde" or a shameless plug for Playboy, but it has its moments, almost all of them courtesy of Anna Faris. My favorite parts were when she said "Good morning, Pooter. You're looking dapper," and said Natalie in her Exorcist voice. They don't sound funny, but if you watch it, you'll know what I mean. Come to think of it, I was so amused by this movie that in retrospect, "The House Bunny" made "Burn After Reading" look like "Manhattan."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-4281769836797181945?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/4281769836797181945/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=4281769836797181945' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/4281769836797181945'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/4281769836797181945'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2008/12/house-bunny.html' title='The House Bunny'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-8998949780660607260</id><published>2008-12-25T16:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-26T07:26:31.542-08:00</updated><title type='text'>War, Inc.</title><content type='html'>Tepid political satire about the synergy (in the Teddy K. sense) of American imperialism, multinational corporations, and Hilary Duff. I don't claim to have seen the whole film, but if the first half hour is any indication of the rest of the film, "War, Inc." is terrible.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-8998949780660607260?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/8998949780660607260/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=8998949780660607260' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/8998949780660607260'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/8998949780660607260'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2008/12/war-inc.html' title='War, Inc.'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-7235375982411776322</id><published>2008-12-24T06:14:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-27T06:40:40.964-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Burn After Reading</title><content type='html'>"Hi. We're the Coen brothers. We just won some Oscars, so you'll watch whatever we make."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was not impressed with this story of the CIA, the gym Hardbodies, and a bunch of incomparably stupid "adults." The plot doesn't sustain interest, but it doesn't have to if the jokes are funny. Which brings me to the jokes. The jokes aren't funny, aside from a few amusing moments with Brad Pitt. In fact, it was so not funny that in retrospect, "Hamlet 2" made "Burn After Reading" look like "Hannah and her Sisters."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the plus side, I saw this two times today and still had time to fit a run in.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-7235375982411776322?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/7235375982411776322/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=7235375982411776322' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/7235375982411776322'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/7235375982411776322'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2008/12/burn-after-reading.html' title='Burn After Reading'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-4482490784328068964</id><published>2008-12-23T14:52:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-26T06:44:19.309-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hamlet 2</title><content type='html'>A high school drama teacher's life is a "parody of a tragedy." He's a terrible teacher and a terrible playwright and he's losing his job. In a last-ditch effort to save drama at his school, he has his students (who he mistakenly thinks are troubled teens) perform his original work, "Hamlet 2," which involves a time machine, Jesus, and musical numbers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At first it comes dangerously close to being a spoof of "Dangerous Minds" along the lines of "Scary Movie," "Epic Movie," etc. But it rises above that and reminds me of Tobias directing "Romeo and Juliet" and "Rushmore." Worth watching, and one of the funnier films I've seen in awhile.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-4482490784328068964?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/4482490784328068964/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=4482490784328068964' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/4482490784328068964'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/4482490784328068964'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2008/12/hamlet-2.html' title='Hamlet 2'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-5551498352267385717</id><published>2008-12-23T14:52:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-27T07:15:49.408-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sunrise</title><content type='html'>Ah, the sweet story of a man who tries to kill his wife so he can live with his mistress, but then has a change of heart and learns to appreciate the one he's with. It's not a talkie, so we hear organ music and see overacting, but the cinematography was probably good at the time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-5551498352267385717?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/5551498352267385717/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=5551498352267385717' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/5551498352267385717'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/5551498352267385717'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2008/12/sunrise.html' title='Sunrise'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-6740584388823656029</id><published>2008-12-23T14:51:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-27T07:21:03.520-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Lord of the Rings</title><content type='html'>I've now seen the extended versions and the regular versions. Can't say I know what the difference is (more of Grond in the extended?), but they're both good. However, this time this critic watched it with the Riddler, who made me wonder, why doesn't Gandalf use more magic, where are the non-white Middle Earth inhabitants, why didn't Gandalf use magic this time, why does Sauron look like a vah-jay-jay, again with the magic. I don't have the answers. Maybe they're in the book. And maybe the book gives a more explicit PTSD explanation for why Frodo leaves the Shire at the end.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-6740584388823656029?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/6740584388823656029/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=6740584388823656029' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/6740584388823656029'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/6740584388823656029'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2008/12/lord-of-rings.html' title='The Lord of the Rings'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-4538469642921915163</id><published>2008-12-23T14:51:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-27T06:51:34.219-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Band's Visit</title><content type='html'>The story of an Egyptian police band trying to find its way to an Arab cultural center in Israel to play a gig. As luck would have it, they get lost along the way and end up in a small Israeli town. It starts out quite funny in a straight-faced, staid kind of way. But then it tries to be serious and explore the love lives of the characters and it goes somewhat downhill. However, the latter half isn't bad enough to ruin the film, in part because, contrary to what I expected, it's not one of those can't-we-all-get-along movies. There's too many of those. This isn't one.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-4538469642921915163?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/4538469642921915163/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=4538469642921915163' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/4538469642921915163'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/4538469642921915163'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2008/12/bands-visit.html' title='The Band&apos;s Visit'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-9111476966374172792</id><published>2008-12-23T14:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-27T08:13:57.459-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Chop Shop</title><content type='html'>This film chronicles the lives of a poor brother and sister in the chop shop district of New York City. Aside from some characters going to the baseball stadium and the viewer hearing the fans chant "Mets" over and over, I'm not sure there's anything that would lead you to believe it doesn't take place in a third world country. Well, maybe the license plates, but I wasn't paying attention to those. I like that eye-opening quality of "Chop Shop," observing how the other half lives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the main characters are children, and unless we're talking about an Iranian film like "Children of Heaven" or "The Color of Paradise," that's usually not good enough to carry the film. Here, the actors aren't the best, they don't come across as very sympathetic, and they certainly don't carry the film.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-9111476966374172792?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/9111476966374172792/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=9111476966374172792' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/9111476966374172792'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/9111476966374172792'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2008/12/chop-shop.html' title='Chop Shop'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-5031225302871484116</id><published>2008-12-13T23:22:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-15T07:00:35.129-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Twilight</title><content type='html'>Before I saw this movie, I had already written the review I wanted to post: "If I ever see this movie again, I'm going to need two tickets. One for me, and one for the man with a gun to my head. And hopefully he's paying."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But after actually watching "Twilight," I can't say that, because the movie is good. And I want to emphasize, the &lt;em&gt;movie&lt;/em&gt; is good. Not the acting, not the script, not the story, not the special effects. Bella and Edward weren't the greatest actors. Bella, though, had a certain indefinable quality that made her appropriately cast: she's fairly normal looking, but a viewer can comfortably look at her for long periods of time. Edward is, frankly, not too easy on the eyes, which is for me a significant problem. But this critic's lady friends inform him that Edward is in fact hot. So I guess for the target audience, Edward was appropriately cast as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I attribute everything good in the movie to the director, Catherine Hardwicke. She made "Thirteen," and the better parts of "Twilight" brought to mind that film, such as the realistic, poignant drama between Bella and her father. For me, the most memorable parts of the movie were when Bella and Edward were with each other (and they weren't called on to act too much, which spoiled some scenes). With the tone set by New Age-y, angsty, emo music (in case you can't guess, I have no idea how to describe the music, but it was good), the camera lingers on them, and they sigh and fail to complete their sentences and stare at each other. Just when things start to heat up, the camera drifts away before things get too saucy. As far as content goes, it's a soft PG-13, but it's sexier than a few R-rated Alyssa Milano films I've seen. And overall, I think it captures very well the world of teenagers and at the same time creates an escapist fantasy out of all the problems teenagers face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The bottom line is, I will not read the books, and if Hardwicke does not direct the sequel, there's a good chance that the review I wanted to write for "Twilight" will be perfectly appropriate for that movie.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-5031225302871484116?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/5031225302871484116/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=5031225302871484116' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/5031225302871484116'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/5031225302871484116'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2008/12/twilight.html' title='Twilight'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-8398272249079512594</id><published>2008-12-12T05:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-14T07:00:09.824-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Dark Knight</title><content type='html'>I stand corrected: Christian Bale &lt;em&gt;does&lt;/em&gt; take his shirt off. When he's on the boat with the Russian ballet, we catch a side glimpse for a split second. But for the record, I don't think that counts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a second viewing, I stand by my original review. The Joker scenes are great, like when he's leaning out the window of the car or robbing the bank. I like the premise, that a terrorist turns a whole city into chaos. And I like how Alfred describes the Joker: "Some men aren't looking for anything logical, like money. They can't be bought, bullied, reasoned, or negotiated with. Some men just want to watch the world burn."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the non-Joker parts drag. The turning of Two-Face still makes no sense, and I think the movie would have been better served by losing an hour, losing Two-Face, and focusing on the Joker.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-8398272249079512594?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/8398272249079512594/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=8398272249079512594' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/8398272249079512594'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/8398272249079512594'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2008/12/dark-knight.html' title='The Dark Knight'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-7041589848960173385</id><published>2008-12-11T05:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-14T11:05:02.387-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Man on Wire</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;A documentary about one man's lifelong desire to walk a tightrope between the Twin Towers. It's a fascinating story, and it has some great, hauntingly beautiful images of -- get this -- a man on a wire. But the film feels incomplete. We see the man and his posse of followers, and we wonder, what do these people do for money, how do they have years to spend just planning the event and practicing in the backyard, why do hippies from the US hang out with this French guy, in short who are these people? It's also confusing what was authentic footage and what was reenacted, and if it was authentic, who was filming and why. That's too many questions for such a simple film.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-7041589848960173385?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/7041589848960173385/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=7041589848960173385' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/7041589848960173385'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/7041589848960173385'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2008/12/man-on-wire.html' title='Man on Wire'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-2393480586472494489</id><published>2008-12-08T21:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-14T06:56:48.179-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Wanted</title><content type='html'>Here's how it starts: "A thousand years ago . . . A clan of weavers formed a secret society of assassins. They silently carried out executions to restore order to a world on the brink of chaos. They called themselves the Fraternity. Six weeks ago . . ."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Loses you at weavers, doesn't it? That's where it lost me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What follows is equal parts "Lucky Number Slevin" (without the Kansas City Shuffle), "Shoot 'Em Up" (without the carrot humor), and "Fight Club" (without the coolness). A better title for this film would have been, "Not Wanted."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-2393480586472494489?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/2393480586472494489/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=2393480586472494489' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/2393480586472494489'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/2393480586472494489'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2008/12/wanted.html' title='Wanted'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-7830029272305122353</id><published>2008-12-08T21:12:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-14T07:07:49.297-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Incredible Hulk</title><content type='html'>Like "Iron Man," but a lot worse. The Hulk looks great in the beginning, when he's just a creature lurking in the shadows. But as soon as we see the full thing, the CGI doesn't do it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Edward Norton? Really? And Liv Tyler? Please.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-7830029272305122353?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/7830029272305122353/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=7830029272305122353' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/7830029272305122353'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/7830029272305122353'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2008/12/incredible-hulk.html' title='The Incredible Hulk'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-6680907186048393843</id><published>2008-12-07T07:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-14T07:09:10.715-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Black Caesar</title><content type='html'>A powerful story, shoddily told. Not all poorly filmed films are unwatchable, though.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-6680907186048393843?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/6680907186048393843/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=6680907186048393843' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/6680907186048393843'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/6680907186048393843'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2008/12/black-caesar.html' title='Black Caesar'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-1396424546008804313</id><published>2008-12-02T06:33:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-14T10:24:56.245-08:00</updated><title type='text'>WALL-E</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;An hour-and-a-half version of the Bjork video "All is Full of Love," with touches of "Toys" and "Event Horizon." The story between WALL-E and EVE is sweet, but when the overweight humans get in the picture, the movie loses momentum fast. It's no "Finding Nemo."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-1396424546008804313?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/1396424546008804313/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=1396424546008804313' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/1396424546008804313'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/1396424546008804313'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2008/12/wall-e.html' title='WALL-E'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-9132211848982576454</id><published>2008-11-30T17:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-01T19:49:51.202-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Best Movies of 2008</title><content type='html'>Every year, film critics publish their list of the ten best films that have been released in the past year. Here are the best offerings of 2008, according to this critic:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Bigger, Stronger, Faster&lt;br /&gt;2. Redbelt&lt;br /&gt;3. Rambo&lt;br /&gt;4.&lt;br /&gt;5.&lt;br /&gt;6.&lt;br /&gt;7.&lt;br /&gt;8.&lt;br /&gt;9.&lt;br /&gt;10.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know what you're thinking. For a top ten list, this one is lacking a few entries. There's an explanation for that: movies this year were terrible, and these are the only three that merit consideration in a list.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You also might be thinking, but what about all the movies released in December? It cannot be disputed that film studios hold onto their Oscar movies until the very end of the year. But in the eyes of this critic, film studios have taken it too far. The trend is getting worse. For instance, last year, three of the Best Picture nominees were released in December, one in November, and one in October. It's Hollywood's way of telling viewers, don't expect to see anything good for the next nine months. I have had enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is an idea in American criminal law called suppression. The idea is that when the government procures evidence by violating an individual's constitutional rights, the appropriate remedy is that the government cannot use that evidence against someone in court. This year, the film industry has violated our rights as viewers by releasing nothing worth watching, at least through the end of November -- three movies aside, of course. To punish the industry, I will not consider any movie released in the month of December for my top ten list. I may watch them, I may like them, I may blog about them. But they will not be on my list, for they have been suppressed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-9132211848982576454?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/9132211848982576454/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=9132211848982576454' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/9132211848982576454'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/9132211848982576454'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2008/11/best-movies-of-2008.html' title='The Best Movies of 2008'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-2047573174753817233</id><published>2008-11-26T06:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-04T07:20:31.050-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mr. Smith Goes to Washington</title><content type='html'>A 1930's version of "Michael Clayton" in which a doe-eyed political newbie is shocked--shocked--to learn that politicians are corrupt. It has a certain old-timey charm, but it's pretty simple. "The Distinguished Gentleman" addressed similar issues and was much more entertaining.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-2047573174753817233?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/2047573174753817233/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=2047573174753817233' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/2047573174753817233'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/2047573174753817233'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2008/11/mr-smith-goes-to-washington.html' title='Mr. Smith Goes to Washington'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-5453937619276619833</id><published>2008-11-26T06:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-27T08:22:31.159-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hancock</title><content type='html'>Will Smith is an alcoholic superhero who has issues coping with his greatness. It's a quirky premise, Smith is great in the role, the writing is solid, and the action is well done. But once we learn more about Charlize Theron's character, the movie loses steam and it goes places I don't think it should go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To be honest, I wasn't expecting much, but this is the third Peter Berg movie -- other than "Friday Night Lights" and "The Kingdom" -- where I have been pleasantly surprised. It's not a great movie, but it's still better than most of what I've seen this year.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-5453937619276619833?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/5453937619276619833/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=5453937619276619833' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/5453937619276619833'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/5453937619276619833'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2008/11/hancock.html' title='Hancock'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-5345058468690927488</id><published>2008-11-23T12:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-23T12:54:44.678-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Outsourced</title><content type='html'>In keeping with the concept of the film, this critic outsourced most of the viewing to Mrs. The Bourne Critic, who informs this critic the film is good, funny, and sweet. Bear in mind, because I did not see much of the film, this critique does not come from me, and I do not know what Monkey Pulls the Turnip means.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-5345058468690927488?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/5345058468690927488/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=5345058468690927488' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/5345058468690927488'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/5345058468690927488'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2008/11/outsourced.html' title='Outsourced'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-4866620641811112988</id><published>2008-11-23T07:24:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-23T07:24:49.726-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Made of Honor</title><content type='html'>Bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S.  Patrick Dempsey was good in "Run," but that was 17 years ago.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-4866620641811112988?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/4866620641811112988/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=4866620641811112988' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/4866620641811112988'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/4866620641811112988'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2008/11/made-of-honor.html' title='Made of Honor'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-5588443741439767027</id><published>2008-11-19T06:17:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-14T10:36:06.678-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Up the Yangtze</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;A documentary about the Yangtze River in China, the Three Gorges Dam project, and riding and working on a cruise ship going up the river. We get a glimpse of real life in China. "China is too hard for common people," cries a storeowner. We see the lives of people who work on the cruise ship, catering to the whims of weird tourists, and how most of the workers come from poor rural families who can't afford to support their children. It's informative in a PBS kind of way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The ending seems nice at first, a slow montage of scenes, showing the passage of time, the displacement of people, the rising of the water. But it lasts ten minutes, which is way too long to be forced to meditate at the end of a movie.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-5588443741439767027?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/5588443741439767027/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=5588443741439767027' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/5588443741439767027'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/5588443741439767027'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2008/11/up-yangtze.html' title='Up the Yangtze'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-7415341325233581686</id><published>2008-11-18T06:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-18T07:32:21.364-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sukiyaki Western Django</title><content type='html'>A Japanese Spaghetti Western (should it be Sushi Western?) of the "Red Harvest"/"Last Man Standing"/"Yojimbo" ilk, helmed by a director renowned for his ultraviolent gangster and horror movies, with actors speaking English (not dubbed), and Quentin Tarantino appearing as a gunslinger whose English is less believable than that of his ESL counterparts. It's as WTF as it sounds.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-7415341325233581686?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/7415341325233581686/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=7415341325233581686' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/7415341325233581686'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/7415341325233581686'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2008/11/sukiyaki-western-django.html' title='Sukiyaki Western Django'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-5129848936131242213</id><published>2008-11-16T18:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-14T14:40:36.114-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Quantum of Solace</title><content type='html'>It's very easy to hate on this movie. Paul Haggis wrote it, so it should come as no surprise that the script is way too obvious when talking about geopolitical issues. Some of the action scenes are too jitterily filmed to know what's going on. In fact, all the action sequences and the filming of locales is derivative of Paul Greengrass's "Bourne" movies and "The Constant Gardener."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some true Bond fans will also hate on the lack of gadgets, puns, and other typical Bond fare. But here's where I like the movie. Bond should not be limited to being a Roger Moore-like skirt-chasing wiseass. He's a dark, brutal mess, who surrounds himself with people who die. That's how Craig plays him, and that's what gives me hope for the next entry in the series, so long as it heads in the same direction. There's also Olga Kurylenko to consider, who is one of the better Bond women in a long time. More of the next Bond film should be like the opera scene in "Quantum," which is an artistic gunfight that plays out silently while an opera star belts out a dirge. It's finely done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I left this film realizing just how important the director is, and how that choice is arguably more important than the right Bond actor. Marc Foster, bless his "Monster's Ball" self, just doesn't know action. That's why Michael Mann should direct the next Bond film. It would be nothing but Bond cruising around in different vehicles, listening to Audioslave or Paul Oakenfold, and there'd be hot chicks, and loud gunfights, and guys being guys, and rich people in great houses, and coke dealers wearing silk shirts, and sleazy informants, and more driving of vehicles while Audioslave plays. And it would be great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, in case anyone cares, I noticed during the credits that Guillermo del Toro and Alfonso Cuaron were the voices of bar patrons. Listen for them if you happen to watch it again; I didn't hear them, and I don't know why they were in the movie.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-5129848936131242213?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/5129848936131242213/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=5129848936131242213' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/5129848936131242213'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/5129848936131242213'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2008/11/quantum-of-solace.html' title='Quantum of Solace'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-8110807589846213077</id><published>2008-11-16T07:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T06:40:41.286-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Planet of the Apes</title><content type='html'>The original! Not the stupid semi-racist Tim Burton remake. With the overactor Charlton Heston screaming such lines as "You cut up his brain, you bloody baboon," and "Take your stinking paws off me, you damn dirty ape!" I actually liked it, especially when Heston was wanting some jungle fever with the hot female scientist. Although, the twist at the end wasn't much of a twist because the DVD itself has the Statue of Liberty on it. So, if you don't know the ending, and if you haven't read this post, don't look at the DVD before you watch it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-8110807589846213077?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/8110807589846213077/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=8110807589846213077' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/8110807589846213077'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/8110807589846213077'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2008/11/planet-of-apes.html' title='Planet of the Apes'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-9016132582625183442</id><published>2008-11-11T07:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T06:37:44.606-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mongol</title><content type='html'>"Do not scorn a weak cub. He may become the brutal tiger." The story of Genghis Khan, before he was Genghis Khan -- written and directed by a Russian. The film follows Temudgin, a young slave, as he grows and fights and is enslaved again and then fights some more, and finally becomes The Genghis. The fight scenes are nicely done, very red and gory, but there's too big a lull between the fights where he see The Genghis's softer side. Maybe in the next two entries in this trilogy they'll speed it up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-9016132582625183442?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/9016132582625183442/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=9016132582625183442' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/9016132582625183442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/9016132582625183442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2008/11/mongol.html' title='Mongol'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-4879850792747660192</id><published>2008-11-09T08:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T06:30:33.096-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Coffy</title><content type='html'>Pam Grier is Coffy, who wants revenge on dope pushers for giving drugs to her younger sister. She goes undercover in a prostitution ring and engages in some typical '70s blaxploitation behavior. Go Coffy!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-4879850792747660192?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/4879850792747660192/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=4879850792747660192' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/4879850792747660192'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/4879850792747660192'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2008/11/coffy.html' title='Coffy'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3866380939614341522.post-3844280026434138658</id><published>2008-11-08T10:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-18T06:53:03.365-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mean Girls</title><content type='html'>Tina Fey's portrayal of a teacher reminds this critic of Mrs. The Bourne Critic. Also, like in "Walk Hard," Tim Meadows turns in a performance that is hilarious, or in the words of this movie, so fetch. Meadows should do more.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3866380939614341522-3844280026434138658?l=thebournecritic.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/feeds/3844280026434138658/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3866380939614341522&amp;postID=3844280026434138658' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/3844280026434138658'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3866380939614341522/posts/default/3844280026434138658'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thebournecritic.blogspot.com/2008/11/mean-girls.html' title='Mean Girls'/><author><name>The Bourne Critic</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00370641894196867438</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
