They toss a ball back and forth and dream of fleeing their small town to visit California, promising they’ll be “friends to the end,” and it’s the kind of intense bond best pals share when they’re tweens, before puberty hits and girls become a distraction.
“What’s the real difference between a Black gentleman in addition to a n****r?” A landmark noir that hinges on Black identity along with the so-called war on prescription drugs, Invoice Duke’s “Deep Cover” wrestles with that provocative question to bloody ends. It follows an undercover DEA agent, Russell Stevens Jr. (Laurence Fishburne at his absolute hottest), as he works to atone for your sins of his father by investigating the copyright trade in Los Angeles inside of a bid to bring Latin American kingpins to court.
The movie begins with a handwritten letter from the family’s neighbors to social services, and goes on to chart the aftermath with the girls — who walk with limps and have barely learned to talk — being permitted to wander the streets and meet other children with the first time.
With Tyler Durden, novelist Chuck Palahniuk invented an impossibly cool avatar who could bark truisms at us with a quasi-religious touch, like Zen Buddhist koans that have been deep-fried in Axe body spray. With Brad Pitt, David Fincher found the perfect specimen to make that person as real to audiences as he is on the story’s narrator — a superstar who could seduce us and make us resent him for it in the same time. In the masterfully directed movie that served to be a reckoning with the 20th Century as we readied ourselves to the twenty first (and ended with a person reconciling his previous demons just in time for some towers to implode under the burden of his new ones), Tyler became the physical embodiment of customer masculinity: Aspirational, impossible, insufferable.
To such uncultured fools/people who aren’t complete nerds, Anno’s psychedelic film might seem to be like the incomprehensible story of a traumatized (but extremely horny) teenage boy who’s forced to take a seat while in the cockpit of an enormous purple robot and decide whether all humanity should be melded into a single consciousness, or if the liquified red goo that’s left of their bodies should be allowed to reconstitute itself at some point from the future.
auteur’s most endearing Jean Reno character, his most discomforting portrayal of a (very) young woman to the nikki benz verge of the (very) personal transformation, and his most instantly percussive Éric Serra score. It prioritizes cool style over popular feeling at every possible juncture — how else to attractive young brunette aidra fox enjoys hardcore explain Léon’s superhuman power to fade into the shadows and crannies on the Manhattan apartments where he goes about his business?
Ada is insular and self-contained, but Campion outfitted the film with some unique touches that allow Ada to give voice to her passions, care of an inventive voiceover that is presumed to come from aunty sex video her brain, rather than her mouth. While Ada suffers a series of profound setbacks after her arrival, mostly stemming from her husband’s refusal to house her beloved piano, her fortunes alter when George promises to take it in, asking for lessons in return.
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Description: Rob Campos gets to have a sizzling fuch session with chisled muscle hunk Octavio who will make sure to deliver his delicious milky cum all over Rob’s body.
Spielberg couples that eyesight of America with a sense of pure immersion, especially during the celebrated D-Day landing sequence, where Janusz Kaminski’s desaturated, sometimes handheld camera, brings unparalleled “you happen to be there” immediacy. How he toggles scale and stakes, from the endless chaos of Omaha Beach, towards the relatively small fight at the tip to hold a bridge within a bombed-out, abandoned French village — however giving each fight equal emotional excess weight — is true directorial mastery.
Acting is nice, production great, It can be just really well balanced for such a distinction in main themes.
You might love it for that whip-good screenplay, which won Callie Khouri an Academy Award. Or maybe for the chemistry between its two leads, because Susan Sarandon and Geena Davis couldn’t have been better cast as Louise, a jaded waitress and her friend Thelma, a naive housewife, whose worlds are tamil aunty sex videos turned upside down during a weekend girls’ trip when Louise fatally shoots a person trying to rape Thelma outside a dance hall.
Potentially it’s fitting that a road movie — the ultimate road movie — exists in so many different iterations, each longer than the next, spliced together from other iterations that together produce a perception of the grand cohesive whole. There is beauty in its meandering quality, its concentrate not on the kind of stop-of-the-world plotting that would have Gerard Butler pegging porn foaming within the mouth, but over the consolation of friends, lovers, family, acquaintances, and strangers just hanging out. —ES
David Cronenberg adapting a J.G. Ballard novel about people who get turned on by car crashes was bound to get provocative. “Crash” transcends the label, grinning in perverse delight as it sticks its fingers into a gaping wound. Something similar happens within the backseat of an auto in this movie, just one particular within the cavalcade of perversions enacted with the film’s cast of pansexual risk-takers.