The follow up to the hilarious “Wayne’s World” has much more of a coherent ending, but that’s about all it has to offer. In the way of a sequel, rather than trying to continue bringing us new hilarious comedy bits like the car sing along, and product placement spoof, “Wayne’s World 2” either repeats those jokes in a new form, or extends them to where it’s boring. For some reason “Wayne’s World 2” is less a sequel and more of a spoof that confuses itself as some sort of David Zucker movie. The characters break the fourth wall constantly, ruining any momentum, and even touch on nineties fads once again. Instead, rather than a weird but funny appearance by the T-1000, there’s a cameo by the “Jurassic Park” T-Rex.
Rush is amazing, and will always be amazing, and how they built their fan base was less around the media and hype and more around traveling. They were there on busses and vans, going through road after road, and showing up for the fans. No matter how tired, or sick, they always came to show fans what they were made of. This is what kind of made Rush feel less like a band, and more like visiting relatives that we loved to be with time and time again. What makes “Time Stand Still” such a bittersweet documentary, however, is that it chronicles the rise of Rush, and their beyond loyal fan base, but it also packs in the daunting realization that they can’t do this forever.
For someone who understands the punk rock world so well, Alex Cox is very quick to tear the nostalgia shades off of the viewers to depict a meeting of two lovers that was so intense it resulted in an unfortunate murder. “Sid and Nancy” are often romanticized by music lovers even to this day, but Alex Cox who brought us the masterpiece “Repo Man,” looks behind the gloss, picturing two unbearable, but real individuals. Director Cox paints a brilliant picture of two people spiraling in to oblivion, with a remarkable drama that’s less a biopic and more a chronicle of two doomed lovers. Sid Vicious and Nancy Spungen are a lot to drink in. From the moment we meet them, they’re loud, they’re parasitic and disgusting, but they form a relationship where they understand each other. In many ways they decided that they need each other to survive.
“The Room” has been celebrated a hundred times over, ad nauseaum, since it became a small midnight movie hit years after its initial release. Since then every critic and columnist far and wide has had their chance with it, and every respective movie buff has seen it, combed over it, and even read the book “The Disaster Artist.” Based on the film’s co-star Greg Sestero’s experiences with its eccentric director and working on the inexplicably demanding film, “The Disaster Artist” by director James Franco and writers Scott Neustadter and Michael H. Webe, is a love letter to Wiseau’s ambition that asks why.
Andrew Repasky McElhinney, the critically acclaimed underground filmmaker responsible for such offbeat gems as “A Chronicle of Corpses” (2001) and “Georges Bataille’s Story of the Eye” (2003), has created a whimsical holiday season feature.
Told without any dialogue, this feature presents a series of inventive dance sequences linked to the simple tale of a contemporary Little Drummer Boy (Conrad Sager) trying to win the heart of a pretty girl (Francesca Flamminio). A magical toymaker keeps an eye on this youthful pair as their dreams spin into vibrant fantasty detours before settling in a delightful reality.
It’s apt that John Hughes’ “The Breakfast Club” would be granted a Criterion release, as it’s still one of the most riveting character studies ever released. While it’s often imitated, Hughes’ 1985 drama stands alone as a hallmark of simplicity, grabbing a cast at the top of their game in a decade, offering up truly remarkable performances in already seasoned careers. “The Breakfast Club” was basically “The Big Chill.” Except for a drama being about people in the middle of their lives, we’re able to sit down for ninety minutes with five young people at the beginning of their lives pondering on what they could become as adults, what they don’t want to become as adults, and what they fear they will become as adults.
It’s David Ayer with another cop drama except rather than a socially relevant tale about mismatched officers of a different race or gender or religion—it’s got Orcs! “Bright” is by no means as clever as it thinks it is, as it uses fantasy tropes not to move the story forward or to lend a new twist to the cop drama, but to hammer us over the head with clumsy allegories and symbolism. Max Landis’ script is painfully stale and lacks any kind of idea as to what it’s trying to get across. It’s much too serious to take as a fantasy film, and not silly enough to take it as a meta-cop movie. Even the opening scene of Will Smith’s character beating a fairy to death on his front lawn with a broom is flat and never quite played up as a meta joke, so much as a poorly delivered device to alert us that we’re watching a “different” kind of cop movie.
Judith Pyke’s documentary, which was originally presented as an episode on the long-running CBC Television series The Nature of Things, highlights the groundbreaking research conducted by the BC Cancer Agency in Vancouver on Personalized OncoGenomics (POG), an experimental treatment for individuals with incurable cancer.