The only thing funnier than this movie is the idea of it playing to a sold-out high-capacity auditorium and every single joke just flat-out bombing.
Years ago, I played in a pretty crappy punk band. Although we usually only played to friends (and, on one weird instance, a group of preschoolers), it taught me two valuable lessons about life:
1. Always leave your audience wanting more.
2. Never play every card you have in your hand.
Sure, you might know twenty five original songs and a few covers--but that doesn't mean everyone there wants to fucking sit through it. After a while, even the most…
Every year, without fail, I run into one movie that's getting amazing reviews from people that I admire that just does not connect with me at all. The last victim of this curse was The Revenant, which I felt was overlong and unemotional to excess; this year's appears to be Manchester by the Sea, which amplifies those traits to the point of deafness. This film is flat, shallow, and overwhelmingly forgettable. It is cinematic tapwater.
Almost every person I know…