tezhowes Reviews

The Blacklist: Mr. Solomon (No. 32) (2016) Season 3, Episode 17

Moronic beyond belief.

[1/10 · 7 February 2024]

I've pretty much bailed - for good - with this moronic episode that would insult a Trump fanboy's intelligence. First, Bimbo Liz, the FBI profiler, is getting married - again - to the guy who was originally paid to woo her and make her his wife - and who later tried to kill her (before she subsequently tried to kill him AND held him hostage for months). They decide that morning to have the wedding that very afternoon. Then Red (and let's face it, he couldn't possibly know every gonzo international creepy criminal in the frigging world because there's not enough willful suspension of disbelief in the known universe to tolerate this nonsense) learns that criminals intend to steal a nuclear bomb and, per usual, tells Bimbo Liz. She then waltzes into the FBI building in the morning and alerts them about the bomb, and then it's 'By the way, Tom and I are getting married this afternoon, and I hope you can all make it after you put down that pesky nuclear threat to the entire world in the next couple of hours. See ya, gotta go!' (ostensibly humming 'Get me to the church on time' in her empty, cobwebbed transom). To add insult to injury, I had to fast-forward thru the dull-as-dishwater first act with killer/husband-for-hire Tom and Bimbo Liz - who couldn't 'profile' a chipmunk - making googly eyes at each other.

Sigh. I ended up gving it TWO more chances (with judicious additional bimbo fast-forwarding) as the nuclear crooks shoot up the wedding, Liz gets dead (the _only_ bright spot in 60 some episodes, but you KNOW it's ALL a subterfuge to get the baddies off her scent and she'll reappear in season 4 like the nastiest unshakable case of jock itch). And Red is ALL broken up episode's end to 'lose' the airhead... so I said, what the hell, one more episode won't hurt (more fool me...) to see what the writers do without The Bimbo dragging the whole friggin' ship down to Marianas Trench depths of idiocy.

Opening scene, we find Red in an opium den smoking /snorting /stabbing, whatever, sleeping off the devastating hurt (I'd be having the party of a lifetime, but...) and he grabs a cab out to Cape May and hides in a deserted bed and breakfast, one of those 'Summer of 42' snobby but rundown New England beach mansions, and (what a shock!) meets a mysterious woman... About 6 minutes on, I KNEW that this whole episode was going to be tossed off as an opium dream, and the chick was going to represent The Dead Mother of Dead Bimbo (an annoying running subplot that is not worth the effort to explain). Or...are they??? Tune into the next juvenile, inept, unbelievable 150 frigging hours or so of...the Bleccch List.

Never Again. I'd rather have the equivalent of root canal applied to my penis and scrotum. The ONLY thing I'll miss is that tall brunette Mosad agent Navabi (sic). Wouldn't mind dancing the horizontal tango with that one.

Severance (2022– )

An arcane but brilliant premise, a truly original series

[10/10 · 27 February 2022]

Episode 3. It's official, this is the creepiest, most imaginative series I've ever seen, right down to the theme music, as much a part of the narrative as Angelo Badalamenti's score for Twin Peaks; it gets under your skin and produces a similar disquieting effect, a musical infestation. Adam Scott, a go-to player for deadpan comedies, is brilliant playing against type as the increasingly conflicted but supremely manipulated chief of a data team whose only task is to methodically massage scads of cryptic data, day in, day out, a task that he is slowly and squirmingly becoming suspicious of a sinister motive amidst the bizarrely secretive protocols of the company that employs him. If the 'big reveal' is as clever and original as the path these whacked out writers are leading us down, it's going to blow the top off of every viewer's head.

The Tinder Swindler (2022)

Love?

[2/10 · 2 February 2022]

To quote an old Tina Turner song, 'What's Love Got to Do With It?' To quote an old P. T. Barnum observation, 'There's a sucker born every minute, and two to take him.'

Or as in this case, her. I hung on just long enough to establish that these women are nothing but greedy airheads who brought these misfortunes totally on themselves. Oooh, I'm gonna snag a billionaire! Yeah, who so desperate that he has to advertise on Tinder for companionship.

The last sentence of the storyline reads 'Where this fairytale ends, a revenge thriller begins.' There's not a snowball's chance in hell that I would expose myself to these braindead mannequins for another 45 minutes, but I _sincerely_ hope he slipped through their fingers and is enjoying every last dollar they willingly _gave_ him. Nice work, mate.

Mr. Love (1986)

What the British do so well.

[10/10 · 26 November 2017]

This little British indie from UK TV director Roy Battersby called 'Mr. Love' is a dramedy/character study about a quiet public gardener's search for love in the midst of a long, arid marriage to a shrill. It would sidle in comfortably with much of the lesser UK Handmade Pictures stuff, and includes a charming plot element that falls into the 'film within a film' category. It could hardly be a 'smaller' picture in any sense of the word, but the performances are letter-perfect without being obvious, it wears its heart on its sleeve without being maudlin, and it's slyly comical without being slapstick, yet with that odd comic sense the Brits are renowned for. The leads, Barry Jackson and Maurice Denham, have resumes as long as your arm and deservedly so. And it sports one of the most mood-appropriate and wistfully beautiful theme songs ever written.

Wild Hogs (2007)

A primer in how not to make a movie.

[2/10 · 8 May 2017]

A few nights ago, I had the pleasure of watching a movie that fired on all cylinders; it was that rare bird that I expect achieved everything and more, from all involved, that it set out to be in its original imagining. This waste of 2 hours is its absolute inverse. The script is banal even for a popcorn flick, the humour, such as it is, flat to the point of feeling uncomfortable for the actors tasked to recite them, the characters cartoonish - even for what is at best a live action cartoon in and of itself - and the acting nightmarishly awful; even the usually reliable William Macy coasts on what could only be a self-referential parody of the milquetoast persona he knows the public expects of him by now. Travolta's input is particularly atrocious - one would think the man had never acted outside a high school play, though with the pablum substituting for dialog he was given to recite, perhaps he just decided it wasn't worth the effort. It's not a movie at all, in fact, just a series of flat, unrewarding, pedestrian skits strung together like nuggets of cheap costume jewellery along a slim thread of 2nd unit director establishing, stunt and scenery inserts - mostly (surprise) of 4 guys riding motorcycles. And even with its limited prospects overall, the climax and resolution could not have been more of an eye-rolling, impotently abortive cop-out. Just an abysmal waste of human and technical capital.

Mike and Dave Need Wedding Dates (2016)

I lasted 42 minutes.

[1/10 · 29 March 2017]

If this is what passes for comedy these days, then it's time for Hollywood to ride off into the sunset and let the rest of the global film world take the reins. Maybe it's because they're stretched thin making (Enter name of interchangeable superhero here) Part 7, but even that's no excuse for this patently unfunny train wreck. Hey, I get that I'm not the target audience for this rubbish, and that it serves a similar function as the Frankie Avalon or Gidget movies did for 60s teens, but this makes 'How To Stuff A Wild Bikini' or 'Beach Blanket Bingo' seem positively Shakespearean by comparison. While they both share the same absence of any discernible story arc and an empty- headed poverty of dialog, 'Mike and Dave...' is just mean spirited and humourless - the first 42 minutes, at least. Hollywood needs a new code; instead of restricted to 18 and over, this should be restricted to 17 and under. Or better yet, never green lit in the first place.

In short, a Jackass generation puke fest with zero redeeming qualities.

A Haunted House (2013)

More worthless Wayans trash.

[1/10 · 20 March 2016]

I admit, I watched all of 20 minutes of this worthless trash, curious as to what the reasonably talented Essence Atkins was up to these days. For those who find humour in a dog being run over and killed in the first few minutes, or pouring oil over a teddy bear and simulating sex with it, you will have a field day. For anyone with a functioning brain - which has never been evidenced by ANY of these clueless Wayans morons, going all the way back to the excruciatingly UNfunny In Living Color which also vomited up Jim Carrey, the most talentless comedian of the modern era, your reaction will be the same as mine. Absolute, unmitigated garbage. And it spawned a sequel????? Wow. Only in a country that elected George W. Bush twice, I guess. SMH.

Embrace of the Vampire (1995)

For boob lovers only

[2/10 · 6 April 2011]

Two stars, one for each of Alyssa Milano's nipples. This snore fest is notable only for Alyssa's nude scenes, obviously at a time in her career when she was concerned that she'd be relegated to the child star dump bin unless she did something drastic. No sense belabouring the plot; it doesn't even function much as a vampire movie, so don't include it your 'Fangoria list of vamp flicks.' And Alyssa's hooters, while substantial, aren't even that attractive, IMO. Oh, and Martin Kemp, who WAS effective in the great English flick 'The Krays' with brother Gary, must have had a lobotomy in the interim, because he walks through this like a man relieved of his frontal lobes. And no-one else, including the fetching Jordan Ladd (Cheryl's little girl) can act, not that they have anything to work with. My advice? Fast forward to minute 50 and get an eyeful of Alyssa's considerable assets, and abandon as soon as she puts her shirt back on.

Under the Tuscan Sun (2003)

Can I give this a zero?

[1/10 · 8 January 2008]

Well to do American divorcée with more money than brains buys a rundown villa in Tuscany. (Much more money; whilst having to dicker over the price, she subsequently manages to cook sumptuous buffets for her workmen and wander around Italy indefinitely with no job or apparent means of support.) Interminable boredom and the inevitable Italian lover ensue; this is a chick flick in the most pejorative sense of the term. Lane acts like an unskilled clueless teenage ingénue throughout - which dynamically clashes with her seriously fading looks - along the way smashing into a variety of (mostly Italian) cardboard stereotypes, dykes, divas, senile contessas and gigolos among them. Bloated with unnecessary scenes, the most ridiculous being a clumsily inserted and pointless recreation of the fountain scene in 'La Dolce Vita'. (A similar conceit was used in an effective and appropriate narrative context in 'Only You', Norman Jewison's vastly superior ode to Italy and romance). 'Tuscan Sun' may be the most vacant piece of cinema of the last decade, despite its admittedly well-lensed panoramas of Italy. Bonus negative point for the extraneous lover parachuted in at the last minute to provide requisite Hollywood ending for its targeted audience of Oprah-brainwashed housewives. Avoid at all costs, unless, of course, you view Oprah and Dr. Phil as pinnacles of intelligent discourse.

Shades of Love: Tangerine Taxi (1988 TV Movie)

Treacly, miserable dross

[1/10 · 4 July 2003]

As fetching as Roberta Weiss is - and she is extraordinarily pretty - this Canadian-made monstrosity is as vacuous and predictable as the Harlequin Romances it mimics. Even as a romantic chick-flick, it fails miserably. And a big anti-Oscar to the male lead, Marshall Colt, who wisely left the acting game a decade ago. It's watching laughable performances by pretenders like Colt that gives one an appreciation of real acting ability.

Rescue Me (2002– )

Vacuous Yuppie Angst....

[23 June 2003]

Soap opera dressed up as comedy-drama. A crashing bore, and crushing disappointment, after Sally Phillips' hilarious 'Smack The Pony' sketch series. Avoid, unless you _enjoy_ watching bland 30-somethings wrestle with their extremely trivial lives.

Code Unknown (2000)

A snorefest

[1/10 · 19 April 2003]

A tenuously connected series of boring, static vignettes collectively struggling to suggest something about dehumanization through bigotry/intolerance. Witless, and yet oh-so-pretentious, crap. Literally mind-numbing - but then Haneke goes on to create the challenging, visceral, thought-provoking 'The Piano Teacher'.

The Watcher (I) (2000)

Flat, empty, predictable, pointless....

[2/10 · 23 September 2001]

Normally I wouldn't weigh in on a movie this inconsequential, especially when my impression of it has been so adequately represented by previous comments, but I wanted to go on record with this one. The direction ranges from tired to inept, the script is generic, the dialogue is banal, the casting is ridiculous (Keanu Reeves), the characters two-dimensional and completely under-explained and Marisa Tomei, an actress whose work generally runs from workmanlike (The Paper) to wonderful (Unhook The Stars, My Cousin Vinny) is reduced to playing the damsel on the train tracks - the role shouldn't even have been first billed as it barely rates a cameo.

Bottom line? Keanu had a buddy who directed a few rock videos for his band dogstar and threw him this very meagre bone to direct. And he did an appalling job. (In his defense, he had very little to work with.) Don't quit your day job, Mr. Charbanic.