How I Won The War, or: John Lennon Pretends To Be An Actor For About Eight Minutes
A few words on Richard Lester’s impenetrable anti-anti-war movie.
A few words on Richard Lester’s impenetrable anti-anti-war movie.
Nothing ever happens on Mars, even if you’re Matt Damon.
Man abondoned on Mars. Grows potatoes. Is rescued. The end.
More droll Swedish humor to perplex and befuddle you.
This is a film in which god takes the form of a small, petulant British boy with a slight lisp.
Almodóvar shows off his creepiest of creepy sides to mysterious effect.
Yep. That’s America right here.
A mess of a likeable oddball of a western.
Why watch it? Because it’s there.
We all have to start somewhere.
In which I go to town on Mr. Deeds Goes to Town.
Wes Craven means well with his new nightmare, and maybe that’s the problem.
It’s not always green grass and flowers visiting the ’80s. Sometimes you step in Dreamscape.
Spielberg made his own bed, why’s he complaining about having to lie in it?