“’Tis glorious crap.” A ludicrous neo-noir potboiler favored by people with a shaky grasp on object permanence and mostly remembered for Alec Baldwin’s pants-wettingly hammy “I am God” speech. Granted, it’s interesting to see Aaron Sorkin still sorting through his various screenwriting strengths and crutches—the say/read sniping between Baldwin and Nicole Kidman is a nice touch, the ridiculous piling on of irony in the finale not so much—but there’s only so far you can get with a Hitchcock-by-way-of-Lifetime director like…
King Arthur: Legend of the Sword is:
A) Arthurian legend as imagined as a Nineties Guess Jeans add, or
B) Arthurian legend as imagined by an eleven-year-old who just discovered Jackson's Lord of the Rings. And crack.
Take your pick. Either choice is worse than the other.
Back in 1994 I had a huge crush on a cheerleader at my high school named Ginger Jordan. The odds were decidedly not in my favor; I was a pudgy, oily-skinned, Zucker-Abrahams-Zucker-obsessed sophomore, while Ginger was a senior, one of the most popular students at the school, and only a few months away from heading off to college at UGA. Ginger tolerated my presence in a court-jester-to-the-queen sort of way—we shared the same drama class, during which I would use…
[NOTE: So this write-up turned into the longest thing I've written for Letterboxd yet—longer even than my goddamned Stalker review—which is probably the only reason I'm actually putting it on the site. It's problematic, likely guilty of whitesplaining and mansplaining, and really doesn't give a fair shake to Hidden Figures or its adherents. But, seeing as only about five people actually read my stuff, and three of them will no doubt see this review's length and give it a hearty…