Grantram

Came in with high hopes, left wondering how this ever got a green-light. Whoever signed off on this should be banned from making date-night movies for life. It’s a flat, joyless slog that leaves you feeling more drained than entertained. And if you’re going to make a movie about a guy “finding his voice” in stand-up comedy, here’s a radical idea: let him be funny at least once before the credits roll.

Not sure why I'm not giving this a 1 – maybe because there were a couple of lines that actually made me grin. Sitting through this wretched piece of dreck, however, is too high to pay for such a slim payoff. And what the heck is the name "Coen" doing on this garbage? The plot, such as it is: forgettable. The acting: horrendous, especially for poor Margaret Qualley (aka Jamie) who's saddled with the most cornpone on-screen accent I think I've ever heard. Even the filmmaker's attempt at the occasional flourish: What was with those 70's-era, almost Bond-esque interludes? The viewer can only be mystified by how they're meant to advance the plot. Oh no, wait – I just figured it out! Someone decided that audience members were likely to be stoned out of their gourdes, thus the psychadelice blurry-blob imagery. In conclusion....... Run, don't walk, from this flick. It's yet another reason that I've nearly given up on making trips to the theater. $17 + my date's ticket + dinner before the show, and for what?? SCHLOCK.

96? Really?!? The flick was predictable, trite and frankly dull. Cate Blanchette played a veritable caricature. Rooney Mara was alternately lovestruck, blank and wounded. The only truly strong presence was Kyle Chandler. So what if the movie is pretty? It hardly makes up for how ham-handedly Todd Haynes directs the unforgivably bad script. Skip it.