Fear Street: Part 1 – 1994
Nostalgia is for suckers. The past ain’t as good as you remember, and shit wasn’t simpler back then.
The World's Most Important Fake Critic
Nostalgia is for suckers. The past ain’t as good as you remember, and shit wasn’t simpler back then.
Overall, The Amityville Horror is an unimaginative bore. Sure, the acting is terrible, with Reynolds showing us his boogers instead of emoting, and George mostly screeching and yowling like a cat with its tail caught in a woodchipper (she has dazzling breasts, though, and nice sweaters). But what lowers this thing into the crapper is how lame and contrived the scares are.
Maybe there is a lesson to learn from the eighties about greed, but not for me since I was too fucking busy getting my G.E.D. and learning about carburetors at technical school. I have no interest reliving, in detail, the lives of rich fucks from long ago.
All of the actors who passed on the script for Alone in the Dark smelled this heap of shit while it was still in the mail truck down the street. But Slater, Reid and Dorff either didn’t smell it or thought it had the pleasing odor of their own farts.
I suppose the gore and zombie shit is done well. I mean, the film is all grainy and the scenes are made up of tons of fuzzy jump cuts.
The plot drags itself along like a man who just had his legs bitten off by sharks. It flops, stumbles and leaves a trail of blood to the spot where it finally dies and all I can think is, why didn’t someone put it out of its misery quicker?
Velvet Buzzsaw is the sort of movie first-year art students might really, really love, because they believe Gilroy. They might quote bad lines from it as though they were now in on the secrets too. When they grow up, though, they’ll realize how stupid they sounded, and how little knowledge they had.
The Mummy is like that sixth trip through the line at the Golden Corral. It’s way too God damn much of a terrible thing. This movie is a relentless barrage of same, grayish-brown slabs of Tom Cruise proving he’s a fucking man, proving he can take a punch or get thrown, dragged or dropped.
I get the sense the folks who made Ready or Not are with me. Why overcomplicate something when you don’t have to?
As it plods along, it hands out the jolts with the thriftiness of an extreme couponer giving her children allowance. Loud trucks honking horns or cats scowling are supposed to scare us. Creaking floorboards and open doors rattling in the wind are supposed to set the mood.