I wonder if now that he is cameoing on a teen drama, Skeet Ulrich looks back at the Scream experience with more empathy for Henry Winkler?
I wanted to love this film. I did. I like absurdist satire as much as the next girl. But at 2 hrs 20 min, this film feels exhausting and head-achingly convoluted. There is stuff to love about it - the gorgeous 1950s/60s Sirk/Hitchcock look of the thing, some great dynamic camera work, the whole sequence with the songwriter on pop culture, and most of all, its depiction of LA as some kind of twisted, Rear Window-ish, Grimm's dark fairy tale…