I think this is Affleck's limpest directorial credit. But, while I don't really care about basketball or product marketing, Air makes for a nice "Saturday afternoon movie" nonetheless. There's no denying the cinematic power of a bunch of dudes bein' aggressively on phones.
I'm not sure that this film's decision (obligation?) to treat Michael Jordan like the shark in Act One of Jaws is really earned by the finale. Let's see him, you know?
Alas, I too am guilty of Consuming Content from time to time. Though nothing will ever capture what the O.G. Scream did, some of the sequels in this series that I want so badly to like consistently are charming, if a little trashy.
No. 6 is laying the schlock on thick, and some of these characters and arcs are particularly two-dimensional in that "nondescript hot person in an '00s horror movie" way. The relocation to NYC is interesting, at times…
Doubling back to review this now that I'm more active on Letterboxd. What can I say? Movie fucking rules. The city is eating itself — OK! Go off, Bruce!
One star short of a perfect score in my book thanks to a virtue-signaling Catwoman. Even so, she's good, and the rest of the cast is great. Everything looks fantastic, too.
During Paul Dano's big finale, my buddy turned to me and said, "That's just you." I'm not sure how I feel about the implication that I'm a psychotic autist, but at the same time, he ain't wrong and this Riddler is cool as hell.
