hotfromcauldron

Really see no reason for this Scientologists meet the Mormons meet Close Encounters as no new territory is explored. As in “Room” we are brought in at the end of a moppet E.T.’s journey with his “phone home" palms. And for two parents with no chemistry at all - it’s a wonder how this little boy was ever conceived. Or was he? Or who cares? Add in the skeptics, the Gov’t., and the believers and four days turn into a boring endless road trip. More puzzling is why the boy needs any help at all since he does what he wants when he wants and then doesn’t for dramatic purposes. Midnight Special is anything but.

Justice starts off heady then escalates to a major headache. Solid performancers deliver thoughtful dialogue. Jesse Eisenberg is a super Lex Luther. Yet creators stop short of diving into the Deadpool with an R- rated romp - possible making this battle sexier, funnier and more provocative. Instead we get a teaser for the next installment and a PG rated dark family mess- sure to earn the bigger bucks.

Captivity is not always captivating. To be stuck in a “Room” can be a great “Misery” or a miserable waste of time. It depends on if the characters or conversations are engaging to even peek our interests or make us care about their ultimate escape - as in the perfect Collector. Cloverfield (2) is a loud , boring , 90 minute teaser for Cloverfield (3). John Goodman is way over the top with a surprisingly monotonous performance - while his two ungrateful prisoners are plain dull people with too many regrets for their limited time on earth. The only lucky one is the man who escaped marriage - “Ben”.

Deadpool is more comatose than alive. And the R- rating is less riotous raunch and more resuscitation of Ryan Reynold’s career. The “wink wink” script analysis of the comic book genre is bogged down by the reluctant hero (victim of a scientific snafu) saves the damsel in distress plot. Finally a coming of age for the male super hero - as Barberella did almost fifty years ago - who not only has genitilia but proudly displays and plays with them - though the audience would need super powers to see it. But if Reynold’s full frontal brings in the BOXer OFFice big bucks. Just think of the battle of the bulges it will spawn: Superman vs. Batman! Thor vs. Ironman!

In a quest to leave the earth with his humanity, a man’s obsession is the center of an unfocused peripheral view of the horrors of the Holocaust. Saul carries the movie on his shoulders and the audience on his back. Images we’ve only witnessed as black and white photos come to life- then death. Yet, within the chaos there is much confusion. And I felt less effected than I should have been. An event that must not be forgotten, yet a movie that never achieves that status.

I went. I saw. I concluded. Hail Caesar! is a patch work quilt homage to old Hollywood that is sloppily sewn together. There were some things I wanted more of others much less and nothing I really could sink my teeth into. I missed John Goodman. After seeing Swinton and Fiennes - I wondered if Wes Anderson could have kept the lunacy going with a stronger narrative. Johansson had a good accent - Clooney and Tatum a gay old time - Hill a line. Me , betrayed - et tu Coens?

Thirty minutes and two shock and awe moments into the Revenant I am out of it. Maybe because having the “leads” in “do or die” situations is meaningless or the abundance of cuts to icy rapids and tall timbers is surprising from the man who shot “Birdman”. Ironically, it left me cold. Granted, production values are good - performances good - and for a re-enactment trimming sixty minutes might have been better.

Simple. Simply brilliant. A masterclass in acting and character study. Rampling is riveting. And Courtney follows her lead as a couple whose past seeps into their present jeopardizing their future. Little happens but a lot is felt in the hands of one of today’s best directors - Andrew Haigh - who targets our emotions as he reflects on our everyday lives. His use of music, inanimate objects, intimate dialogue and silence is unparalleled. A film that will forever be a haunting memory.

Tarentino’s eighth and ninth film is a horse poop ( this site won't let me say the word) game of Clue that is clueless. In Tarentino’s words - it’s a game of patience- for anyone sitting through it. If these actors turned it up one more notch it could have been an incredible SNL skit. It’s a cliche to put the beginning at the end in 2015. In fact every possible theme or gimmick has been used to much greater effect in his last seven films. And being in 70 mm is a waste - one panoramic shot of a stagecoach gliding in the snow doesn’t hold a candle to Ben-Hur, West Side Story or even Cleopatra which was better than this - if you can believe that! If he deleted the “N” word and all the who’s who and all the repetitious dull banter - he would have been left with a twenty minute bloody good short. In fact if he deleted this awful script he would have saved me three hours of my life.

What a difference a year makes! From one of my favorite films The Great Beauty - Sorrentino delivers another 2015 overrated pic - a plotless pondering pontification on the amount of urine drops peed by the elderly. I'm embarrassed to say I couldn't make it to Jane Fonda's entrance --and I see and sit thru everything. But this disappointment pissed me off.

Cate Blanchett is my favorite actress - The Talented Mr Ripley - one of my favorite films. So it's sad to say Carol is a disappointment that never reaches the heights or depths of Brokeback Mountain. Yes, it reeks of atmosphere, style and subtleties but never seduces us. Blanchett ( a smoldering Rita Hayworth) and Mara (an innocent Audrey Hepburn) enter into a forbidden love that leaves their significant others whirling in an unaccepting world. Yet the lingering pace, the spit focus and a simple narrative kept me interested but never riveted. Good is not great - but gushing critics only help foster the mediocre product we have gotten from Hollywood over the past year. Mr. Haynes - please , sir, I want some more.

What you see is what you get as " pretty" Danish Girl tackles the over exposed provocative subject of 2015 - transsexualism. After Tangerine, I am Cait and Transparent we are left with Tootsie meets Psycho without the camp. Hooper treats the matter as an affliction like stuttering without adding any new insight. Redmayne pouts and poses- Vilkander pushes and pulls- and Pettigrew peters out of a menage a trios that would have given this film some much needed sizzle.

Ironically, Dalton Trumbo always had the last word even though his written words were banned because of his politics. Blacklisted and imprisoned , this is his struggle back to the top of his first love -screenwriting- bringing us some of Hollywood’s best such as Spartacus, Exodus and Roman Holiday. “Trumbo” relies on its words and as in “Spotlight” an exceptional cast delivers including Louis C.K., Elle Fanning, Diane Lane and John Goodman. More so, Helen Mirren chills as Hedda Hopper “trumps” an industry rallying her readers with a smear campaign and Bryan Cranston’s oscar- worthy performance is the man who walked the walk and talked the talk.

Spotlight soars as a docudrama with it’s compelling subject matter and strong cast. It is informative and infuriating and forces you to face some harsh truths as it unfolds. Using the cloth of God the troubled youth are preyed upon instead of prayed for. A weakness of this genre to me is the lack of character development. But Mark Rufallo inhibits his role - hands nestled in his pockets- thumbs twitching- he is the heart, soul and drive of this film.

Brooklyn is best in Brooklyn in this coming - of- age -of innocence Disneylike adult fairy tale. The streets might as well have been paved in gold where the only bad things are a pair of giggling “step” roomies and taking God’s name in vain while discussing make-up. Eilis Lacey is our princess who sails across the sea for a better life only to be swept off her feet by her knight in shining armor Tony Fiorello. Emory Cohen gives a break- out perf with a smile that could melt the polar ice caps. Therein lies the biggest flaw of this film. There is no Eilis’ choice - unless she wants to be the most hated character in filmdom history. This homage to the immigrant is a refreshing relic. I wonder how long before if become's a Broadway musical- Irish Night Fever?

It’s a daring move for director Gaspar Noe to start "Love" off with a climax- but he’s a daring director with a career for cinephiles to follow. Martin a self professed sentimental romantic film student in Paris navigates love and commitment through the eye of his ****. Sex in love. Sex out of love. Sexual consequences as the same carnal acts are repeated as the partners drift apart. A transcontinental mating game that tries your patience yet still reveals some truths in between the sheets.

Bond's back briefly before brainless blueprint baffles, bores and blows-up. British bomb buries Craig 's brittle bones. Bye Bye. Better bring back Connery and Bassey.

A five year old boy learns "if you can’t go back to the womb you better be a good fighter ". A woman questions her motherhood - between her selfishness and selflessness. Yet with these two interesting character arcs and an unusual premise there is “Room” to grow in this adequate film. The problem lies in the fact we are let into their world the moment they try to escape it . And cheated of the most critical decisions by the victim and the most crucial years of growth for the boy. There is no exploration of nature vs. nurture or maybe even attachment parenting. And so we are left with one must assimililate back into society as say a newly released prisoner or soldier from deployment - the other must be reborn like “Charly” with neither story totally satisfying - held together by two great performances.

Two NoDoz and a tab of LSD and you just might be able to keep your eyes open and watch the beautiful painting dry. The other people in my row were snoring - so thankfully there were titles - for the limited dialogue. An artsy fartsy fav that makes you wonder how a martial arts film can be sooooo boring.

For the first forty minutes I thought I was watching an episode of Father Knows Best. Older sis gets stood up by her mystery man (duh) while younger bro has been scared out of his wits watching a cartoon of an A-bomb attack ala Reefer Madness in school . And I was sure dad/hero/ Hanks and his wife slept in separate beds with one foot touching the floor. But back to the story which is not worthy of a movie , not if you don’t get into the heads of the characters - especially the two Abercrombie and Fitch models- Powers and Pryor- in this reality game of Spy Swap. Mercifully, Mark Rylance plays Russian spy Rudolf Abel - not Christoph Waltz - the only thing that didn't leave me cold. For a movie with a slow start it has way too many endings - the corniest - a faint smile from a passenger on a subway. Plodding, preachy and predictable this “Bridge" finally takes a toll on your patience to where anyone who paid $13 for a ticket would want to jump.

99 homes sit on a street- 99 homes on a street -if one of them haps to foreclose -98 homes before I doze. Greed and corruption and the American dream should make for an exciting blueprint - like Boiler Room and Margin Call. But once you’ve seen the opening five minutes of this film - there’s nothing to phone home about. As the middle class learns a house is not a home. And the cookie cutter arc of the lead character - a man torn between putting a roof over his family and living with himself makes for a weak foundation to support this ninety minute house of cards.

Sicario is a dynamite hybrid of Homeland and True Detective. It’s a gritty examination of Mexico’s dire drug problem and it’s effects on the USA. Outstanding cinematography - of a landscape that is character in itself- and music that heightens the tension combine with Villeneuve’s superb storytelling and intense performances especially by Emily Blunt- who holds her own in a tough male dominated world. It’s a movie that could propel Trump into the oval office - with it’s own solution.

Double the pleasure, Double the fun - sorry - Double the boring, Double the dumb. After it’s Sound of Music opening, Goodnight Mommy is D.O.A. A major flaw is the film’s inability to infuse the horror into everyday life like Polanski’s Rosemary’s Baby or Hitchcock’s The Birds by keeping reality at bay with too many contrivances and little explanation. The “twist” is obvious ten minutes into this stale suspense strudel for anyone who looks and listens. And there’s no wit and no suspense and you could care less what happens to these characters which makes for a very slow ninety minutes of irritation. Another meager Twilight Zone episode with style much overrated.

Straight Outta Compton makes ghetto starz into star wars. NWA makes poetry of poverty and prejudice. Music bio pic makes more by focusing on supreme break-up rather than the usual rise to fame detoured by drugs. Jason Mitchell makes Eazy E a shoo-in for an oscar nom. Paul Giamatti makes mince meat of the manager/mentor again, first with the Beach Boys and now, with the boys of the hood. This movie makes the family tree of rap biz - as powerful and intriguing as the mafia.

I was hoping it was an early xmas with the rave reviews for the gift. And for the first thirty minutes expectations are high with the possibilities of a creepy intruder thriller like fatal attraction or the hand that rocks the cradle. Not a bad debut for writer, director and actor joel edgerton. But then the score pounds, the characters preach, the action comes to a screeching halt, time passes and all the fun and tension is drained. And after we are clobbered with the “message” we get to the what’s in box number three moment. But by then who cares!

Mission Impossible - Rogue Nation - runs on Cruise control. He had us at risky business - and three decades later - still tackles his roles with wild abandon. And although he might not show his age the script does. The plot is tired - the surprise twists old - the dialogue laughable and the third act long. Rebecca Furgurson holds her own - she is hot and tough - but the sexual tension is non-existent. A step back from Edge of Tomorrow. Still i look forward to his next move.

Tangerine is the most “foreign” American film I’ve seen in ages. An Altmanesque trip over a couple of hours through a couple of blocks with a couple of chicks - that starts and ends at the right moments. Baker’s delight of crackling performances, vibrant kalaidescope colors and raw frenetic energy is captured on an iPhone. And the large cast of characters - estranged bedfellows , a dysfunction family and friends who got your back - are fully fleshed out with a gamut of emotions and plenty of “high” drama. Tangerine puts a face on the people of Caitlyn Jenner’s crusade - drawing us into their world - through laughter and sorrow.

It’s a puzzlement how a matter of life or death can become an interminable bore weighing in at 90 minutes. Woody’s **** pontification on being alive is a short essay at best. A disillusioned alcoholic professor beds both his students and married co-workers without any recourse. Dueling voice-overs , reiterate a droning dialogue of the obvious- to all but the characters. Irrational Man quickly turns irritating being miscast - Hollywood please let Emma Stone graduate already! - lacking Allen's acerbic wit and super score. Even as a die-hard fan - sitting through this- forced me to confront my own existential horror.

Honey, I shrunk the safecracker - Ant- Man is no fantastic voyage. The furor over Affleck’s Batman allowed an underwhelming Rudd to slip into his superhero suit unscathed. And Lilly’s Morticia Addam’s puts another nail in the coffin. No matter how hard they try to make a mountain out of an ant hill - caper, characters and conversations fall flat. If those of age toss back a shot everytime they hear the word "daughter" or "hero" - you might enjoy the last fifteen minutes- where only size matters.

In the female fight for buzz of the week —Caitlyn Jenner :" I am woman hear me roar" vs. Amy Schumer : "I am woman watch me ****. " With all the hype it feels politically incorrect to say Caitlyn wins as Trainwreck jumps the tracks after 20 minutes. Daddy issues leads Amy into a life of drugs and promiscuity - while her jokes act as a buffer to her pain. But it never seems real - and the chemistry between Haden and her is nil. Schumer fans shriek with glee while others in my camp wait and wait and wait for her to sober up. It’s feels like a 0-0 game forced into overtime. Swinton constantly amazes. Lebron holds his own. And Schumer was incredibly funny on all the talk shows promoting her pic. Spoiler Alert: I despise when extras break out in applause as love wins out.

Amy is the same old story with a different meaning since she’s been gone. A soulful poetess. A crippled chanteuse. A sorrowful life. Floating lyrics light up the screen as demons darken this bright star. Fame can be fatal. And so many times we fail to save those who cry out for help. We were robbed of a Bennet / Winehouse tour - but her genius is forever grooved in the world of music.

Communication of thought distinguishes man from animal. In the twisted lord of the flies - Tribe - the audience is forced to interpret the actions of a pack of thieving survivors. It’s like watching the lion's cage at a zoo. And a facination with the sounds of silence dissolves into a tiresome experience after two hours - even though there are images worth a thousand words. Eastern Boys - another European film exploring similar territory- is far more effective.

A male perspective. Forty minutes into Magic Mike - I thought -Tatum should bend over and everyone involved in this film should kiss his butt for making it rain in their pockets with this terrible sequel. Tatum is having a mid-life crisis. He wants to recapture his youth. He can rest easy. We see he still has the moves in the last twenty bareable minutes of “so you think you can strip." But when the motion stops and they open their mouths - it’s unbearable. Especially the flirtatious banter between Tatum and Heard while he’s taking a piss. Rumor is the “actors” starved themselves - quite evident in their very thin performances of their even thinner characters. As for the women - they chew the scenery. Twitch is a nice addition - he’s a great dancer. But Michael Strahan - he’s not. ABC and Disney using sex to get ratings for “Live with” - times have changed. It will be hard to get it up a third time - may I suggest a silent movie with the guys using their g-strings as sling shots as naked and afraid they traverse the wild dunes of Fire Island - from Ocean Beach to the Pines- looking for Pettyfer and McConaughey. And as for Hollywood grosses - imagine ( and who didn’t !) a tape of Joe and Sofia on their honeymoon night - Watch out Jurassic World !

In this second coming of Ted, he can’t, cause he’s built like a Ken-doll- but - hey that doesn’t stop him from a little beastility. Seth Macfarland plays to the teenage boy under the covers with a flashlight skipping to the dirty parts of Tropic of Cancer- but that only lasts twenty minutes- not two hours. And John is back as his pot clouded bff - the jerk. No really now he’s either the jerk off-er or the jerk-ee in an attempt to save Ted’s marriage with a child. In a desperate effort to drum up box office Walhberg was cruder than the movie on his publicity tour. He told daytime audiences of the View he kept his infamous **** in a safe. Then dropped f-bombs on the Tonight Show that mortified Fallon. But we understand. I mean Entourage was only a few weeks ago.

Earl” suffers from too muchitis. Voice over over kill and labeled scenes make dialogue redundant as we are told what to think and even what not to think! Twice! So we shut off our brains become less engaged and emotionally disconnected for the first 100 minutes. All this drowns in Ryan Murphyistic stylization- who knows how to balance it with crazy plot and even crazier characters. Casting also hits and misses - Earl and Me good- but the dying girl has been doing a nice job for the past two seasons dying on the TV series Bates Motel while being the object of an outcast teen’s fixation. Sound familiar? And when the moment we’ve been waiting for finally comes- the impact is quickly dissipated - by more voice over from here and beyond. It is the best of films. It is the worst of films.

God only knows what makes man turn nothing into something. A Ford Model T. An IPhone. A song. And God only knows what one person will have that life altering effect on our journey - be it a guardian angel or a blood **** leech. One thing I know, Pohlar does a remarkable job bringing Love and Mercy to the screen. Cusack and Dano are both fragile and frank. Banks is a force to be reckoned with. A soundtrack of our lives, a cautionary tale, a love story, a glimpse into the mind of someone suffering from mental illness - a life. Brian Wilson- thank you for sharing your gift and your pain. Twenty five years ago - at the Breeders Cup - at Santa Anita race track - because of the crowds - I shared a table with a shell of a man and an overly protective caretaker. When the caretaker left to relieve himself - the man softened, smiled and told me I’m a Beach boy. Now I finally understand.

A few steps from the Las Vegas Strip - Air Force aces and video gamers - wipe out the enemy 6000 miles away - at the risk of suffering carpal tunel syndrome. For one grounded pilot the thrill is gone - his marriage is suffering - his morals are questioned. Provocative thoughts - lazy execution. Never as good as an episode of Homeland. Old habits die hard but Good Kill is why I won’t be an avid movie theatre goer who “must see” all films as they are released on the silver screen. In fact, this past month Slow West, Maggie, and Barely Legal premiered on direct TV weeks before their theatrical openings. They sold out. So I have no reason to support them. Why spend money on a ticket, gas, parking and snacks when I never have to leave my couch. In fact why spend 8.99 for one showing when I can wait and see it for 9.99 with a month supply of other films and TV shows. ( stock alert - Netflix will go to $900). Hollywood is transitioning but I predict less movies will make more. More movies will make less. Fewer movies will have red carpet openings. Art houses will close. To be “must see” Magic Mike will have to drop his g-string. Mr. Grey will need to whip out his stick. A dozen super heroes will converge on evil. And a car chase will be 120 minutes. Oh, wait, that’s Mad Max. And while I’m ranting- imagine rebooting the Mona Lisa - the Stones Let’s Spend the Night Together- Miller’s Death of a Saleman. Just like Hollywood folk botch up their looks with make overs so does Hollywood destroy their classics. Why Poltergeist? Psycho? Nothing is scared for the mighty buck.

John MacClean’s film debut - Slow West - shows he’s heading in the right direction. Within the first few frames there is an odd coupling of Jay and Silas , a boy and a man, a dreamer and a survivor, and civility and brutality. Colorado, 1870, is pioneers, gangs, indians and immigrants. Trust in nonexistent , murder is as commonplace as pissing in the woods and fame is measured by the size of your reward on a wanted poster. Fassbender is understated, Smit-Mcphee is innocence, supporting characters are quirky and dialogue is quip. There are golden nuggets to pan in this love story with a bloody good ending.

Is it an LA freeway or an apocalyptic nightmare or just miles and miles of high octane road rage? Doesn’t matter? “Fury” should be seen and not heard with spectacular action sequences and psychedelic landscapes reminiscent of Ben-Hur and Lawrence of Arabia. A polygamous water czar is hellbent on capturing a renegade warrior who goes off the beaten path with his precious cargo- and well, Mad Max goes along for the ride. Yet thirty minutes into this film - we’re riding on empty for any movie goer driven by plot, character and dialogue . Miller’s reboot revs its' engines but ends up going in circles.

In 1967, the message to women, beauty is happiness. Mousse, music, detail, perfection, muses, loves, and fixations blend in fashion and fiction in the film Saint Laurent. Spoiled boy, animal , designer, brand, visionary, addict, and madman is Saint Laurent. But as Laurent loses his way to sex, drugs and fame - so does the film. However, the comeback, where past and present, inspiration and artistic creation, converge under Benello’s direction with Deshaies cinematography and Romand’s costumes capture an hallucinatory essense of YSL. In the end, beauty is not happiness.

Hardy’s “Madding” begins as a smart Taming of Bathsheba but ends a baa'd Fifty Shades of Hay - as feminist turns to fool. Men - Gabriel - a sheep farmer whose flock goes a stray- William- a loner with wealth - and Frank- a soldier with a wandering sword- fall at her feet but this virgin gal fights for equal pay, free choice and independence until her private parts cause a brain fart. Far from a frenzy - one loses all respect for our heroine by the final frame when her life’s fate is sealed with a kiss.

This review is for adults only cause it won’t matter to anyone under 18 what I say about this mediocre mind over matter TGIF CGI Avengers. In fact, if you turn off the sound - you’ll miss nothing - nothing that makes any sense- and be left with a long boring “motion” picture including a tasteless recreation of 9/11 - a **** collapses while soot covered people run amok. In a year of films where man vs. machine, robot, iphone and internet cable this dud fits right in without a moment of human heart soul or imminent danger - an unnecessary evacuation in the last twenty minutes. Really? When for two hours nary an onlooker’s body bruised. Enter the fickle twins - one flits while the other f***s with your head - but the only fear we have is being left out of a phenomenom - whose box office receipts are generating more excitement than what’s on the screen. For movie goers hoping for something old- something new- something borrowed- and something that blew us away - forgetaboutit. At least until Star Wars- I hope. It’s amazing it’s taken Hollywood almost 40 years to get back to “2001”.

If somebody took the time to read this ludicrous script- I would not have wasted two precious hours of my life on the adult fairy tale- Age of Adaline- without a "Grimm" moment. Our Benjamin Button ‘Nancy Drew’ stuck in neutral is running her whole life fearing scientists might do an ET on her while it’s aging hollywood starlets that would rip her to shreds. For the first hour we see how she’s one step ahead of everyone until a big whoopsy. I say hello and you say goodbye and good bye and goodbye is corny enough as our fable’s moral—but no- this one is more perverse—when two starry eyed family members are **** into the same black hole. Nothing cures like time and love. So i’ll be okay in a few days.

Imagine an actress discovered for playing Eve Harrington given the opportunity to play Margo Channing twenty years later - a thespian’s nightmare or dream? Binoche's perf is a master class as she morphs into the “other” role while revealing her own character. Art imitates life as line readings blur with conversation. Analysis of script becomes introspective. Stewart surprises as her outspoken assistant especially as she defends today’s “Twilights” and the actors who fearlessly attack their parts. Moretz’ Lohanesque starlet’s personal life is plastered all over the internet in contrast with Binoche’s past indiscretions cloaked in secrecy. Writer/director Assayas - one of France’s finest - cuts away from the expected and lingers on the unexpected. Perhaps a too inside examination of "process" that will leave most audiences out. Lee Strasberg believed acting is the most personal of our crafts. “Clouds” proves it.

Beyond the Reach is beyond belief - and Michael Douglas is in it !?! David and Goliath cardboard cut-out characters wander the desert for forty no, two days and two nights , thank god, without one “dry’ repartee. And the contrivances pile-up in this bloated Naked and Afraid Calvin Klein underwear ad - sharpshooters miss - calculating minds turn to mush (check if he’s dead!!!) and the ‘law’ is ludicrous. Can we forgive a man whose lost his “basic instinct” to be a player in this ‘game’?

iSwear iHated iMac Unfriended - one hour and twenty insufferable interactive minutes online with a bunch of kids in their terrible teens . A disconnect between a good message - anti cyber bullying - and a bad horror flick. A Blair Witch upgrade with not a scare on the big screen on the small screen - not a care of what comes next- and a googled explanation to boot. I kept wishing for a North Korean hacker to make it go away. Likes: 0.

True Story is a sleeper. No really, it almost put me to sleep. A disgraced reporter- doing a Brian Williams- forms a symbiotic relationship with an alleged killer to save his career and find himself. Motivations ring false. Hill and Franco drone on and on—with Felicity Jones as a wooden wedge between this blossoming bromance. All involved take center stage exploiting the victims- a mother and her three young children- for personal gains - including the producers of a very unnecessary story to be told. It’s rare I despise every character on screen. And the fact that all three are still in each others lives - is sick - I swear.

Ex Machina is a voyeuristic romp of a menage a trois between two men and a machine. Oscar Isaacs’ hilarious Hughes- Hefner mad scientist believes women should serve but not speak yet is on the verge of inventing sex dolls with soul. The Machiavellian machinations grow tiresome as his subjects converse through prison windows. But stick with it. Turing must be turning in his grave to think he could have bedded Christopher - his computer. What’a next ? An iwatch orgasm? It’s app to happen.

In While We’re Young Baumbach does Apatow. A 40’s something couple suffering from a mid-life crises meet a 20’s something retro couple mirroring them in every way except with more promise and less regrets. Cutesy montages show they are losing touch with their contemporaries and out of touch with today’s youth. Yet, prove bodies age - irregardless of spirit. Stiller - fifty playing forty - confuses the issue. Watts - light on the screen dims - too many roles too close together. Driver is cool and calculating. Then a shift - Baumbach tackles the manipulation of truth in documentaries to heighten drama in a world full of selfies and Desperate Housewives. He even casts a reality T.V. star as a hedge fund manager. Wink. Wink. And we end with the notion - parenthood propels humans into adulthood. Now that’s a premise worthy of debate. But he doesn’t.

Let’s cut to the chase. Again. Again. Dumbing, numbing farewell to Walker. Family are not bullet proof-crash resistant-gravity defying Wallenda’s on steroids. It's time to go super hero or go home. And why keep a psychopathic killer alive who causes over 50 deaths and one billion dollars worth of damage to Los Angeles- not enough imagination to come up with another evil villian for Furious 8? Catch the last two minutes if you want to pay your respect to a cool actor - you won't miss a thing.