First Fletch sequel picks up a year and a half later with the investigative reporter (now a freelance art critic) traveling to Boston in search of stolen paintings, finding murdered girl in his apartment. Not as satisfying as Fletch, perhaps because it isn't as personal, but a clever and enjoyable mystery in its own right, leavened with the character's usual dry wit. This time, however, Fletch isn't the smartest investigator in the book; that distinction belongs to Francis Xavier Flynn, the eccentric Boston cop in charge of the murder case, in which Fletch is the prime suspect. (Flynn would go on to star in his own series of novels.) A fast, pleasant, and amusing read.
***
First Fletch sequel picks up a year and a half later with the investigative reporter (now a freelance art critic) traveling to Boston in search of stolen paintings, finding murdered girl in his apartment. Not as satisfying as Fletch, perhaps because it isn't as personal, but a clever and enjoyable mystery in its own right, leavened with the character's usual dry wit. This time, however, Fletch isn't the smartest investigator in the book; that distinction belongs to Francis Xavier Flynn, the eccentric Boston cop in charge of the murder case, in which Fletch is the prime suspect. (Flynn would go on to star in his own series of novels.) A fast, pleasant, and amusing read.
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** Plodding supernatural thriller about a young woman (Maika Monroe) whose new boyfriend gives her the worst STD ever: a strange creature only she can see that follows her wherever she goes and which, if it catches her, will kill her. Comes with the usual metaphorical baggage of any film that equates sex and death without (also typical) ever saying anything new about it. Seems intended to be hypnotic -- with its slow pacing and long silences, as well as its emphasis on creeps rather than scares -- and your enjoyment of it will largely depend on whether it works for you on that level or becomes merely dull. Includes a 21-year-old who wishes he were a "child" again, a couple of contemporaries whose big childhood memory is finding porno magazines in an alley (no doubt a detail from the much older writer-director's life), and a noticeable dearth of modern technology (cell phones, computers). Wildly popular, however, with both critics and audiences, suggesting how bad movies have become in the aftermath of Blair Witch and do-it-yourself filmmaking. *** Entertaining fluff, but nothing more. One year after the events of Finding Nemo, Dory (Ellen DeGeneres) searches for her parents, from whom she was separated as a child. The magic is gone, of course, and with it the vastness of the ocean: most of the action in this film takes place in and around California's Marine Life Institute. The humor, too, is more repetitive, with endless variations on Dory's short-term memory loss. But most significantly, the film lacks the gravitas of Nemo, as we discover that a quest to find one's self-sufficient parents is much less compelling than one to find a missing child, even when the journey is really one of self-discovery. Pleasant enough, though, on its own terms. *** Liberal CPA turns vigilante after his wife and daughter are brutally attacked in his New York apartment. Slow-starter (the hero doesn't even take a swing at anyone until the halfway point) that develops into a thoughtful, non-exploitative discourse on crime and self-defense. You know it isn't all about the killing when a large chunk of the climax is in the form of a psychological profile of the unknown killer. Ends well. Made into a movie in 1974 starring Charles Bronson. Followed by a sequel, Death Sentence, in 1975. ** Nice refutation of the idea that movies should closely mirror the books on which they are based. Stanley Mann's dull screenplay sticks too close to its source material (Stephen King's book of the same name), inevitably reproducing the worst parts of the novel rather than emphasizing its strengths. Add to that Lester's slack direction (the movie begins with a father and daughter running from bad guys in New York City in a sequence that produces only yawns), and a prominent role that was beyond young Drew Barrymore, and you get...well, you get a fairly typical Stephen King adaptation. (The good ones have been by directors smart enough to use the books as starting points rather than blueprints.) This one is about a young girl and her father (David Keith), each with psychokinetic powers, who must fight for their freedom from an evil government agency. Martin Sheen is good as the head of the agency, but George C. Scott is miscast as the heavy, a hitman with a meaningless fixation on the little girl. Followed by the TV miniseries Firestarter 2: Rekindled (2002). ** Politically pointed claptrap that might have been better titled The Secret Life of Slugs tells the story of a hitman for the mob (Brad Pitt) -- a modern, corporate organization that balks at murder -- tasked with taking out the two-bit criminals who knocked over one of their poker games. It's all a metaphor for the soullessness of American capitalism, a not unworthy subject that Dominik (who also wrote the screenplay) f-bombs back to the Stone Age with ugly characters, insidious humor, and head-blasting violence. Neatly sticks the intersection of verisimilitude and near-unwatchability. Stylish, though, with good performances all around (the cast also includes no-brainers Ray Liotta and James Gandolfini). Based on George V. Higgins' book Cogan's Trade. **** Lem's evocation of the eerie, the odd, and the mysterious highlights this novel of an English police inspector investigating a strange case of corpses seemingly coming back to life. The mystery itself is less important here than the theories advanced to explain it, which together create a world in which perception becomes its own reality. The terrific ending includes a particularly creepy scene set in the English countryside. At night. In deep fog. |
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