So when they spin their wheels while the brothers McMullen sort out their conflicts, it isn't an act of self-flagellation. Rather, it is the process that women go through when they realize they have met someone who is worth the effort, flaws and all. The Brothers McMullen is certainly worth the effort.
It is a rare treat of a film: a debut that exudes freshness and polish all at once. Welcome to the big screen, Mr. Anyone who knows me even remotely knows how much I respect and admire the talents of artist, author, and filmmaker Clive Barker. So it is with a very genuine sense of disappointment that I say that Lord of Illusions is not a worthy horror movie by any means; it is simply a horrible movie. Plodding, fragmented, confusing beyond words, and finally, the ultimate sin, excruciatingly boring. When Barker broke on the cinematic scene back in with the chilling, fantastical, and thoroughly perverse Hellraiser, all eyes turned toward the young British terror maven in expectation.
It seemed, for a time, that he could do no wrong. Then came Nightbreed, his second offering, bungled by the editors and a marketing campaign that left audiences scratching their collective heads.
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And now this Based on his short story The Last Illusion, the film follows hardboiled P. Harry D'Amour Bakula, in an interesting choice of casting that's as hit and miss as a rusty blunderbuss as he tackles the case of Swann O'Connor, in a bit of maddeningly awful casting that makes you want to cringe , a master illusionist along the lines of David Copperfield meets Harry Houdini. Swann, who may or may not be dead, has apparently incurred the wrath of Nix Schiavelli , an evil sorcerer out to garner Swann's soul and destroy D'Amour in the bargain.
Barker's eye is still good - there are a few shots here that recall the phantasmagoric imagery of Nightbreed - but his pacing, his direction, and, more than anything, his dialogue, are all disastrously off-key. Rarely have I heard such gales of unintended laughter erupt from an adult audience during a supposedly "serious and literate" horror film. And, I regret to say, I was whooping it up alongside everyone else. There's not much else you can do when Bakula grabs Swann's widow Janssen in a rough embrace, practically hollering, "Kiss me, you fool!
Jumping wildly from scene to scene and shot to shot, the film just makes no real sense: The narrative flow has been gutshot somewhere along the way and even the most diehard of Barker's fans are left with a muddled quagmire of vaguely interesting set pieces and the kind of continuity errors usually reserved for early Jackie Chan opuses. Awful in every way, shape, and form even the score by Dario Argento's right-hand composer Simon Boswell seems seriously flawed , Lord of Illusions fails at almost every conceivable level, from computer effects on down to the Passaic, New Jersey dinner-theatre dialogue.
Fans will be heartsick. Anyone else, go check out Hellraiser and its immediate sequel to see what all the fuss was about. During its opening moments, Desperado announces itself as an action picture that demands to be watched, if not for its hyperkinetic staging and riveting fusillade of superhuman physical feats, then for its stunning choreographic vortex that sweeps all action and drama into its ever-escalating cyclone of forward progression.
With Desperado, a follow-up to his ultra-low-budget indie success El Mariachi, Austin-based filmmaker Robert Rodriguez proves that his earlier success was no one-hit wonder. Rodriguez is a filmmaking dynamo whose talent derives from his kinetically composed images and vibrantly economic editing style. His lively image flow gathers no dross. Happily, the comforts afforded by Desperado's larger budget have not endangered Rodriguez's stylistic economy; instead, the additional funds mean that now Rodriguez can blow things up real good.
By the time Desperado's opening action sequence concludes prior to the opening credits, the viewer has already lost count of all the fatalities and the film has adopted a kind of comic-book logic, humor, and vitality. El Mariachi's mythic status has been reaffirmed and it frees him from the bounds of mere human physical constraints. Furthermore, having heartthrob-of-the-month Antonio Banderas portray El Mariachi in this chapter of the film saga Desperado cannot exactly be characterized as a sequel to El Mariachi, nor is it a remake; with its new cast and embellished story line, it seems more like a continuing adventure or further episode certainly adds to the character's mystique.
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This maxed-out shoot-'em-up also intertwines a passionate love story within its plot. When first we see her, she is causing multiple car crashes by merely walking across the street. Visually, Banderas and Hayek make a stunning pair with their long dark hair framing them in a voluptuous cascade, and their sly humor and natural cunning finding in each other a natural fit. Moreover, one of the most unusual aspects of this Hollywood-financed production is its absence of American actors and settings. In Desperado, Mexican figures are portrayed as both the heroes and the bad guys.
The soundtrack also features music by Los Lobos. Desperado is a bust-a-gut film experience that reveals Rodriguez as both a stylist versed in the mechanics of popular storytelling and a maverick whose ingenuity guides him along a singular path. Not to be confused with the similarly plotted Hammer horror picture Dr. Jekyll and Sister Hyde, Dr. Jekyll and Ms. Hyde is instead a terminally lame special-effects comedy with next to no laughs, smarts, or originality. Tim Daly stars as a young scientist who inherits the research notes of his old relative Dr.
Jekyll, and, in his attempts to improve on his ancestor's formula, winds up unleashing what he refers to as "his dark side" - a manipulative man-eater named Helen Hyde, who proceeds to wreck his relationship, steal his job, and generally ruin his already unstable life. Whatever "battle of the sexes" wit might have been wrung out of this potentially provocative story line has been all but lost on these unimaginative filmmakers, who, despite the efforts of four count 'em screenwriters, still couldn't avoid the time-worn music video sequence of our heroine trying on clothes.
The actors are uninspired in the extreme, with Daly confusing a goofy smirk with a good performance, while the normally energetic Young walks through her admittedly thankless role, displaying absolutely as little interest as possible. Director David Price, who is also credited with coming up with the story never mind the aforementioned Hammer opus or, God forbid, Robert Louis Stevenson's orginal story Overall, this PG bore is neither crass enough nor intelligent enough to hold anyone's attention. An all-star cast shamelessly romps through this outrageous period swordplay fantasy, full of ridiculous comic set-pieces, bloody sword slashing, and high-flying wire stunts.
This is the type of movie that appears to have been made up largely during shooting, resulting in a freewheeling "anything goes" attitude that lends both giddy spontaneity and bizarre shifts in mood to an already thin narrative. However, one should not view a film like Holy Weapon looking for elements like a believable story, rational characters, or structural unity; to do so is missing the entire point, which is to sit back, relax, switch off your brain, and have some fun The plot begins with a superior Japanese swordsman, known only as Super Sword, massacring the great Chinese swordsmen of the martial arts world.
He proceeds to challenge Heaven's Sword, a legendary Chinese martial artist, who accepts, taking the infamous "Greatest Drugs" to ensure his victory. It works, but the magical potion also drives him mentally insane, much to the dismay of his bride-to-be, Ching Sze.
While she becomes a mercenary specializing in the killing of "heartless men," Super Sword returns Now Ching must find a way to cure her husband and locate six other virgin women so they can learn the incredible "Virgin Sword Stance" in order to defeat the dastardly villain who can literally transform his body into a giant flying sword. While there is little actual kung fu on display, the wirework and special effects are pretty dandy, and the action set-pieces are highly imaginative.
This is one loony movie, and the cast acts appropriately goofy, with Black Panther Warriors star Melvin Wong giving a performance of such jaw-dropping stupidity that it equals his similarly crazed work in the aforementioned picture. Martial arts queen Michelle Yeoh Chi-king and her Heroic Trio co-star Damian Lau play it fairly straight, a tactic that serves only to heighten the comedy, due to all the insanity surrounding them. Jackie Chan cohort Maggie Cheung Man-yuk is delightfully perky as a spoiled princess, while Sandra Ng Kwan-yu grates on your nerves as her lusty bodyguard.
Wong Jing directs with his usual unevenness, but it is thankfully less obvious here, owing mainly to the episodic nature of the story. It's bewildering how a project this outlandish could attract such big names and solid production values, but the results are very entertaining and make you glad that movie moguls like Wong Jing are around and successful For once, the hype is right on the money. After the shockingly on-target coitus during which the practiced youth assuages his young lover's fears with hollow promises of respect and ongoing warmth his by-rote words carry all the weight of a thrice-used condom, but the virgin in question is oblivious in the heat of the moment , Telly - the self-proclaimed "virgin surgeon" - cruises off to hook up with pal Casper, who plies him for details of the tryst, living vicariously through his friend.
On the other side of the city New York , Jenny, a past conquest of the "de-virginizer," goes for an HIV screening as moral support for a friend. The friend comes up negative, but Jenny, with Telly being her one and only lover and that was last summer, with no phone calls or tender words since , is stricken to find out she's a carrier.
Frantic, confused, and afraid, she numbly wanders the parks and boroughs of a sweaty, grimy New York trying to find Telly to alert him to the situation. Director Clark previously best known for his gritty photos of urban street kids and hollow-eyed junkies uses Jenny's dazed meanderings as a way to explore the seamy underbelly of America's urban youth. We see Telly and his friends hanging out, getting drunk, smoking dope, fighting, fucking there's no sex here, no lovemaking, just simple unromantic rutting , and generally acting without any moral compass whatsoever.
They're kids playing at being grown-ups playing at being time bombs. Clark's brilliant eye keeps the film running as an edgy, in-your-face observation of what many kids consider a normal day's events. The loud public outcry that accompanied the release of Kids - that it was little more than an exploitative attempt at teenage titillation - is as silly as Telly's come-ons. Anyone who's been out clubbing in an urban area after 2am will find few surprises in what Clark depicts. Shocking, yes, but hardly surprising; the film, perhaps not unintentionally, feels very much like a documentary.
Disturbing, harrowing, visceral, and even sporadically humorous, Kids is one of those rare films that begs the description "a must-see. Or maybe not. DeCillo's second feature his first being the underrated Brad Pitt vehicle Johnny Suede is a caustic, witty, nightmarish look at what goes into the making of an indie film, from the endless screw-ups that transpire as the crew battles with backbiting, egomaniacal stars run amok, sexual politics on and off the set, and all the little horrors of day-to-day filmmaking on a shoestring budget.
And it's pretty funny, to boot. Buscemi is Nick, the director of the titular film Living in Oblivion, a sensitive, Nineties drama, a "serious film" that just doesn't seem to be going right at all. Alternating between being maddeningly conciliatory toward his feuding leading man LeGros, wonderfully ridiculous here as Chad Palomino, the Gen X heartthrob whose only come-on seems to be "So, do you like jazz? DeCillo keeps the film moving with the kind of frantic energy you find on a real film set, alternating between judicious use of black-and-white and garish color, all the while keeping both frazzled director Nick and the audience just a little off balance.
It's a hilarious, scathing look at one man's attempt to get a film made, "whatever it takes," and it may be the most relalistic depiction of that struggle so far. First things first: taken for what it is - a comic-book actioner based on a popular, relentlessly violent video game - Mortal Kombat isn't half bad. Sure, there's wooden acting, wooden dialogue, and wooden sets, but on the whole, it manages to reach the same level of late summer escapism as some of Tsui Hark's more accessible Hong Kong chopsocky extravaganzas. And, thankfully, it doesn't take itself very seriously at all.
It is, in essence, the video game transferred part and parcel to the screen, and very well at that. Terrifically loud, bombastic, and over-the-top, Anderson's film recalls everything from those old Ray Harryhausen Sinbad adventures to more modern teen-oriented fare, throwing in everything and the proverbial kitchen sink.
What there is of a plot revolves around three mortal contestants chosen to defeat the Outworld evildoer Shang Tsung Tagawa, nicely sleazy in a martial arts battle to save the world. Liu Kang Shou , Johnny Cage Ashby , and the voluptuous Sonya Blade Wilson are the trio of earthly heroes, and Christopher Lambert late of Highlander 1-ad infinitum is Rayden, the wise and wisecracking silver-maned god on their side.
Not much goes on here except for battle after battle and set-piece after set-piece, but both battles and set-pieces are filmed with vigor and originality; there are very few of the too-tight close-ups of blurred hands and feet we so often see in martial arts films, and all three leads are affable, likable cartoon fodder. It's the cinematic equivalent of cotton candy and Rock 'em Sock 'em Robots, but you may recall, you loved that stuff as a kid.
I know I did. A movie shouldn't have to be seen twice in order to be understood. Second viewings can certainly deepen an appreciation and enrich our knowledge and experience of a movie. But a second look shouldn't be required in order to have a solid understanding of certain things as essential as who did what to whom That said, I can't think of a movie the second viewing of which I looked forward to more eagerly than that of The Usual Suspects. When revisited, the movie comes through like a champ and reveals a clarity and overall vision that seemed tentative at first encounter.
The Usual Suspects is a movie with style to burn, and, initially, that is this crime drama's most mesmerizing aspect. The plot's convolutions and unexpected surprise ending all seem to be extensions of the film's stylistic flourish. Upon reflection, The Usual Suspects' story line is not all that eventful.
The film begins with the elegantly filmed explosion of a boat. The rest of the film recounts the events that led up to the explosion. A seemingly random roundup of several top New York City thieves tosses five larcenous professionals into a jail cell and when they emerge, the web of heists that seals their doom is set in motion. Out of the group of five, Verbal is the last survivor. The characters contribute so much to the movie's richness.
These performances are full of fine nuances, dialogue, and slowly revealed traits. Very little really occurs in terms of the film's essential actions, but everything occurs in the way that these events go down. Everything is so fascinating to watch and piece together. Director Bryan Singer and screenwriter Christopher McQuarrie are high school pals whose first feature film, Public Access, won the Grand Jury Award at Sundance two years ago, though this widely hailed film languished from a lack of sincere distribution.
Their second feature, The Usual Suspects, seems destined for greater things. Ron Howard's take on the ill-fated moon shot is a big step forward from his previous two films - Backdraft and The Paper - which were generally muddled exercises in how an excellent filmmaker can get lost in his own story. Apollo 13 has no such problems, and as such, it's a riveting, nail-biting, two-buckets-of-popcorn return to form for Howard, filled with the almost unassailable heroics of the U. The story, by Texans William Broyles, Jr.
Howard pulls out all the stops on this one and the performances are uniformly wonderful: It's almost a valentine to NASA, but without the celestial mythologizing of films like The Right Stuff. Oddly, some of the integral special effects in the film - and they are integral - seem less than perfect but, overall, Apollo 13 succeeds and may be the only summer adventure blockbuster without bullets or warheads.
Perhaps one of the cutest children's films ever made, this tale of the young piglet who decides his calling in life is to be a sheepdog is also a rousing comedy appropriately filled with a variety of subtle messages, from self-empowerment to the importance of treating others as equals, even though they may be, ah, sheep. When Babe the piglet is taken from the automated pig farm, he ends up at the farm of kindly, taciturn Farmer Hoggett Cromwell, in a brilliant piece of casting and his wife Szubanski.
Here, he falls in with Hoggett's sheepdogs, the bitter Rex and motherly Fly. Fly adopts the lonely innocent as her own, introducing him to the various members of the farm community, from old matron ewe Maaa to Ferdinand the duck. Eventually, Babe gets the notion to join Rex and Fly as sheep herders, and, when he proves adept at the job, Hoggett enrolls the piglet in the local sheepdog trials.
Babe looks and flows wonderfully. It's a clever, witty, touching piece of work that, coincidentally, is a decidedly excellent date movie. Melanie Mayron in her big-screen directing debut delivers a quirky little movie that captures a lighter side of the oft-explored, flip, desperate-to-be-hip, angst-ridden, roller coaster ride of adolescence.
The Baby-Sitters Club is a conglomeration of story lines from the phenomenally successful series of books by Ann M. Martin about a group of friends whose adventures in baby-sitting are the core around which the travails and drama of their post-pubescent lives unfold. The centerpiece of the picture is a poignant and wonderfully disconcerting story about imperfect parental love. Kristy, the president of the club and an energetic and outspoken tomboy has an unexpected reunion with her well-meaning but totally unreliable father.
Concurrent stories include one club member's summer romance with an older boy, another's struggle to pass science, an emerging friendship with a crotchety neighbor, and the ongoing battle with the sworn enemies of the club, the devious, rainbow-sherbet-clad Cokie, Bebe, and Grace. The movie zips from one story to another, going through as many mood swings in its hour and 20 minutes as an average year-old girl goes through in, well, an hour and 20 minutes. Bright and cluttered and engaging, The Baby-Sitters Club has a youthful buoyancy and whimsical rhythm.
Michelle Pfeiffer stars as an ex-Marine who serves as the Great White Hope to the "dangerous minds" of the title: a classroom of ill-mannered, cynical kids who have lost all interest in learning. Perhaps it has something to do with the aseptic, TV-movie atmosphere that hangs over the entire production, or the way it asks us to buy the idea that old Bob Dylan tunes, karate, and candy bars are going to turn a bunch of hardened inner-city kids on to the joys of education.
Although it's based on a true story, Dangerous Minds just doesn't seem to take place in the real world. Pfeiffer's got charm and pep to spare, but next to zero substance when it comes to exploring her character's particular hypocrisies and pretensions. About the only thing that keeps Dangerous Minds from being a total washout is the humor and energy of the young actors portraying Pfeiffer's students.
Modern-day dweeb Calvin Fuller drops out of the dugout literally and back in time about 1, years to Arthur's Camelot, which has fallen on hard times. The movie equips its unlikely champion with age-old, singularly human attributes such as courage and honor and love. Nichols essentially reprises his Rookie of the Year role as a less-than-stellar baseball player whose life is changed by an extraordinary turn of events. Despite a goofy hairdo and a voice that cracks as often as my office mate's gum, he still shines as the charmingly ordinary hero. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said of his current vehicle.
Even with Nichols, decent production values, a pair of plucky princesses, and a few pleasant surprises tucked in here and there, A Kid in King Arthur's Court is a pretty prosaic picture. Conceived as a kind of Alfred Hitchcock meets John Grisham thriller, The Net merely proves what makes those guys such pros and makes producer-director Irwin Winkler Night and the City such a heavy-handed knockoff.
The Net is sensationalism sans substance - a hip topic, a hot actress, and a hokey script. Professional hacker Angela Bennett Bullock is a meek young woman who works at home and communicates with her employer and colleagues by computer. She stumbles across a conspiracy, which in turn erases her identity more expeditiously than leftists are "disappeared" in Argentina. For the plot to work at all, it is essential that there not be a soul who can identify her: not a neighbor, not a co-worker, not a relative, not a friend. Is this really possible, even given the most hermetic computer nerd?
In terms of suspense, this Net is full of holes. The Postman is an Italian co-production whose history is as tragically romantic as the poetry of one of its main characters, Chilean poet Pablo Neruda. It is loosely based on a novel about an incident in Neruda's life when he was befriended by a young postman while living in Italy. Set in during the time of Neruda's exile from Chile to a small island off the southern coast of Italy, the film recounts the friendship between the aging Communist poet and the shy, directionless son of a fisherman who knows only that he does not want to follow in his father's footsteps.
The Postman also is a love story of the first order, a sweet Cyrano tale and, in fact, one of the sweetest stories on film this summer. Slow in parts but appealing overall, The Postman suggests how interwoven the bonds of friendship and love can be. Painted cover by Bruce Timm. An extra-length adaptation of the upcoming crossover between the animated adventures of DC's two greatest heroes!
Batman follows his nemesis, the Joker, to Metropolis, where he finds that the Clown Prince of Crime has joined forces with master villain Lex Luthor. The Dark Knight must enlist the help of the Man of Steel to stop the evil duo, but things get even more complicated when Lois Lane falls head-over-heels for Bruce Wayne? Softcover, 64 pages, full color. Collects Batman: Gotham Adventures Written by Ty Templeton.
Art by Rick Burchett and Terry Beatty. In this book, Batman continues to protect Gotham City but as his mission grows more difficult, the Dark Knight increases the number of his allies in his fight against the insane criminals that plague his home. Art by Mike Parobeck and Rick Burchett. Utilizing a straightforward writing style and clean artistic design, this trade paperback presents Batman in battle with some of his most classic yet dangerous foes.
Based on the highly popular animated Batman series, these tales provide gainful insight to the characters that make up the Dark Knight's rogues gallery. As Batman and Batgirl go up against Harley Quinn, the Riddler, Poison Ivy, Clayface, and Killer Croc, fascinating background information about these characters is revealed creating a greater understanding of their life choices and motivations.
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Batman Adventures 1st Series Mask of the Phantasm Batman the Animated Movie behind-the-scenes secrets, and exclusive phantasm novel excerpt inside. There is a Dark Knight in Gotham City Seventeen stories by today's finest authors, featuring two of Batman's deadliest adversaries, The Joker and Catwoman. Hardcover, 6. Art and Cover by Bruce Timm.
Some of the greatest animated-style adventures of Batman ever told, collected under one cover! Adapted by James Raven. Art by Dave Cooper. Freeze will stop at nothing to cure his wife's life-threatening illness, even if it means using the captive Barbara Gordon in a deadly experiment! Can Barbara use her resourcefulness to stay alive long enough for Batman and Robin to find her? Softcover, 5-in. Written by Sarah Stephens. Art and cover by Luciano Vecchio. The show's top cat will win a diamond cat collar-a prize too perfect for Catwoman to resist.
But the ICE show isn't the only catnip in town. An art museum's exhibit of ancient Egyptian artifacts might be the cat burglar's real mark. Can Batman and Robin foil Catwoman's perfect plot, or will the powers of a pendant prove perilous for the Dynamic Duo? Written by Louise Simonson. Harley Quinn has the blues.
Her best friend, Poison Ivy, has just been nabbed by the Dynamic Duo. And her Puddin', the Joker, is locked up in Arkham Asylum. What's a super-villain girl to do? Capture the Boy Wonder to force the Dark Knight to set her friends free, of course! Can Batman and Robin escape Harley's crazy creeper caper? Or will the crime fighters be force to free two of Gotham City's most notorious villains? Art and cover by Tim Levins. After squashing Poison Ivy's plans to pilfer the patrons of a Gotham City gala, Batman and Robin puzzle over her foiled plot.
Why would Ivy target a fundraiser for Robinson Park, the city's largest green space? All signs point toward the vine-loving villain's desire to let her fiendish foliage flourish freely, especially when a ferocious forest suddenly arises in Robinson Park.
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Now the Dynamic Duo must dash into the weird and wild woods to face Poison Ivy's rainforest revenge. Dollar Bin Codeword. Date This week Last week Past month 2 months 3 months 6 months 1 year 2 years Pre Pre Pre Pre Pre s s s s s s Search Advanced. Sort by A-Z Price. Previous Next 1 2. Issue 1. Batman Adventures 1st Series 1. Published Oct by DC. Add to cart VF- 7.
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