By: Henry J. Fromage –
This week featured some theatrical releases, both willful watched and not. The less said about The Art of Racing in the Rain, the better.
183. Good Boys
I was a bit worried that the redband trailer for Good Boys, which is the only trailer I ever saw for it, strangely, contained everything of note in the film. While it does more or less give you every plot beat, I’m happy to report that this is 90-odd minutes of consistent hilarity, as the “Superbad, but Middle School” gamble pays off nicely. If movies like this and Booksmart are the payoff, I’m all for more spins on the SuperBad formula. Two Beers.
184. The Art of Racing in the Rain
The product of a “people like This is Us and Golden Retrievers and and race cars and talking dog movies and especially talking dog movies with quasi-mystical reincarnation myths so I think we can make 15 million first weekend off of this shit” mentality, nobody involved with the production seemed terribly inspired by what they were doing So we get a movie that doesn’t really delve into racing, or dogs, or drama, or much of anything except for the talking dog’s self-loathing as voiced by Dennis Quaid. It’s bizarre, but not nearly bizarre enough to be entertaining. Six Pack.
185. The Intruder
Nobody would confuse this with a good movie. But damn, if this is just exactly what it sets out to be, a throwback thriller predicated on good all-around acting and bad character decisions. In particular Dennis Quaid is having the time of his goddamn life playing a charismatic stalker who enlivens the film every second he’s in it. Three Beers.
186. In Bruges
I’ve seen this several times, and well within Oberst’s 10 years rule for this column, but so be it. The takeaway of this viewing is an appreciation for just how well-honed the comic acting in the film is, not just Ralph Fiennes combustive performance, but especially Colin Farrell’s tragic doofus. The command of the mix of clashing tones is also masterful, more like a Korean film than anything. A Toast.
David Fincher’s second foray into Netflix television is even more fruitful than his first (no Spaceys here, I dearly hope), with a fascinating, very Fincher focus- the first serial killer profilers as they start to build a science and an investigative technique out of interviewing “sequence killers”. All shot in inky blacks, grays, and greens calling to mind some of his finest films- an under the radar gem. Two Beers.