Violent. Virulent. Vile.
Here’s my review of the film.
"Trust no one."
Lo and behold! 'Tis I - the average Fincher protagonist! Watch me ramble on in my auteur-approved monotone about the excruciating banality of life in my chosen field of work: assassinations.
And look, I make it seem so cool because I can intellectualise my work by spitting out complex philosophy in a rather mundane drawl adding the façade of self-awareness which teeters between the pretentious self-aware introspection of the nihilistic 18 year-old, and arrogance.
Who needs crackers on Diwali for noise pollution when you have Rohit Shetty’s Sooryavanshi?
Loud, bombastic, jingoistic, brainless, barbaric propaganda balderdash plagued by irritating background music, forcefully shoehorned communal rhetoric disguised as a plea for a nationalist sentiment forging harmony, terrible writing with an utter disregard for nuance, cringeworthy attempts at humour, tonal inconsistencies, and Katrina Kaif’s performance (if we can call it that).
Unsurprisingly, it feeds into the idea that the only true Indian Muslim is the one who…
"I am vengeance.”
I am biased towards Batman. It doesn't matter how the movie is, the character is always going to get an extra half-star from me. That's just the rule of cinema. I didn't make them and I don't intend on breaking this one yet.
The Batman brings Batman back on the big screen and boy oh boy is he in a full doomer space. A bold red all-caps title that hits the viewer by covering an entirely black…