“God is the unholy pig. We serve the butcher.”
The lead story on Clint Eastwood’s Richard Jewell, released today, should be “Paul Walter Hauser gives breakthrough lead performance.” He’s amazing.
The actual lead story is infuriating: “Eastwood smears journalist by depicting her sleeping with an FBI agent for a tip.”
This is the primary hot take, and then there’s the secondary hot take: this is a right wing persecution fantasy straight from the heart of Trumpland. I just saw the movie and I can tell you with my highest…
Even better than I remembered it. The nature of a bedtime story is to make it up as you go along, piecing together an ad hoc mythology that generates continuous conflict while enabling the desired conclusion. Shyamalan builds this methodology into the structure of the film, as an antidote to the postmodern death of originality bemoaned by Bob Balaban’s grumpy critic. The meta-fictional level and the first order narrative work seemlessly together. The result is by turns hilarious, moving, suspenseful, and exhilarating in its unbridled creativity. Giamatti is incredible, as is the entire supporting cast.
This review may contain spoilers. I can handle the truth.
There’s a lot to dislike about Infinity War. It’s pure, soulless product. Shameless fan service through and through. It doesn’t manage to offset this with its ridiculously dark conclusion, because we all know they won’t follow through with it. After the amount of money Black Panther just made, not one person who watches The Avengers will believe that he’s really gone. Or, if there is such a person, I have some ocean front property in Idaho I’d like to sell…