Super Hate

So awesome. This week, my brother-in-law who actually set up this blog for me, inspired me to use it, and likes to remind me that he still has admin privileges, suggested hurling some poop at this new summer blockbuster. I couldn't help but oblige. Enjoy!

Caitlin's Review of Super 8

Manufacturing Restraint
a review by Caitlin Murphy
 
One of my favourite lessons from a Blockbuster movie comes from Jurassic Park.  Though cynics could construe the film’s point to be that “movies about dinosaurs sell toys,” the mayhem unleashed when scientists replicate the Jurassic age had a deeper thematic message.  An old friend of mine used to love referencing the film’s moral whenever a situation called for it: “Just because we can do something,” she’d sing-song, with feigned righteousness, “it doesn’t mean that we should.”  It’s an idea that manages to be pat and profound at the same time; it’s a consideration that feels really absent right now.

Michael's Review of Super 8

Stephen Speilberg does not make films anymore, he just pays for them. You might be surprised to hear this as you have no doubt seen his name attached to lots of movies lately. Movies like Super 8. They get a lot of undeserved attention for their hot-shot directors (J.J. Abrams) and Executive Producers who seem eager to throw scads of money at anything involving big, squishy aliens or World War II. It is marketing masquerading as film making  and I for one am getting tired of the prepubescent, Ritalin-dependent boys who slog this crap into theaters all summer long. Mr. Speilberg, would you please put down the G.I. Joe action figures and get to work on Schindler's List 2 or something?

Back in the Saddle

Been off the blog-beat for a while due to life stuff, but glad to be back for this, the 10th review! This week, Olivier, the boyfriend of my friend Pauline (previous blog-buddy for Biutiful) and I were supposed to catch the Morgan Spurlock doc, but it disappeared crazy fast. He kindly switched gears and took in Woody Allen’s latest. Enjoy!

Olivier's Review of Midnight in Paris

Films that fail to elicit a strong reaction in their audience, good or
bad, are the worst ones to have to review. I go to the movies to learn
something about myself, events, ideas or other people. I like to be
inspired. I like to be impressed. What I hate and what I think is a
waste of time is to go to the movies and to be mildly amused.

Caitlin's Review of Midnight in Paris

Pitch-Perfect Paris by Caitlin Murphy

Woody Allen makes movies so often that it’s ironically pretty easy to forget that he makes movies. His films are givens, inevitabilities like Christmas or taxes. Like most women, I’ve had a tumultuous relationship with Woody Allen. Sometime after the initial flurry of excitement for his impressive body (of work), I lost interest. Predictably, it was the corny humour and creepy sex stuff in Allen’s work that I’d learned to dread; so, I found the off-ramp. By the time he was hitting a new stride with his more recent fare, I couldn’t really muster the energy to merge back on. However, Allen’s latest offering, Midnight in Paris, is an absolute delight, one that finds him in fine form indeed, and me feeling surprisingly seduced anew.