Movie Review: Chronicle Is the Angry Teen’s Superhero Movie ... in a Good Way
Instead of using masks and big CGI battles, it shows what a sullen adolescent might actually do with superpowers.
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Instead of using masks and big CGI battles, it shows what a sullen adolescent might actually do with superpowers.
The only tension generated comes from the awkwardness of watching actors who clearly don’t want to be anywhere near each other.
There's less heavy-handed mythology, more heads exploding.
It’s an uncertain hodgepodge of impulses and desires that never coheres enough to even crash and burn.
It's too transparently corny and manipulative to resent.
It's an atmospheric, effectively nasty, quietly tense film that’s a lot more than one can hope for in the dog days of January.
What makes it so good is that no one is bad.
It’s always fun to watch bony, hollow-eyed white women grotesquely contort their bodies, call priests “cocksuckers,” and hurl them against walls, but the ending reeks.
Meryl Streep the impersonator reproduces the music in her subject’s voice and through it the workings of a mind.
Spielberg becomes the slapstick-action wizard of his (and our) wildest dreams.
Rooney Mara is ... functional.
The pleasure, such as it is, comes from anticipating the land mines and then gauging the scale of the devastation.
It’s surprising, even moving, how often Cruise throws the ball to Renner.
This sequel is overblown and inelegant.
The problem with Reitman isn’t that he’s shallow, but that he thinks he’s deep and edgy.
This is one confused movie. That's not wholly bad.
“Your vagina will not be penetrated. Your vagina will be a temple.”
Even when a guy is getting stabbed in the ear with a chopstick, Outrage is totally controlled.
Compared to the trendy despair of Shame, A Dangerous Method is a road map to happiness, chock-full of tips on how to reconcile our disparate impulses.