Word: hollywoodized
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...amid the splatter of crushed limbs, the chatter of Strangelovean science fiction and the sludge of traditional romance--and despite way too much tone-deaf acting--Watchmen has splashes of greatness. It proves again that the action movie is where the best young Hollywood brains have gone to bring flesh to their fantasies...
...paparazzi leave, and the stars disperse into the night? As Jamie Foxx’s video for “Blame It” finally reveals to us ugly people, they all show up at the same shady club and chill with each other. That’s right: Hollywood is just as incestuous as any Harvard student group. But cooler. Because, mercifully, the alcohol won’t run out at midnight. Sure, the music video is mostly stereotypical, and a little low-budget in appearance, with all the same images we’ve seen a million times...
...take toward their strife. The noise of motorbikes and jeepneys permeate many scenes, capturing the desperate chaos of the city. The sex is graphic—blow jobs are not faked, full nudity is not uncommon—but it does not possess the showiness or glamour of its Hollywood equivalent, and every sexual scene lacks a sense of arousal; the act, it seems, cannot truly be enjoyed. Awkward as it may be to watch any sex scene in a theatre, the most disturbing aspect of watching these relations stems from the look of unpleasant necessity, rather than pleasure, that...
...romantic anxieties shot through with Martin Scorsese’s manly poetics—but Gray’s attempt to be an auteur of enclosed spaces and private struggles is mired by bad scriptwriting filled with well-worn tropes of romantic drama. He should embrace his Hollywood side, and it actually looks like he might: his next project is a Paramount thriller starring Brad Pitt called “The Lost City of Z.”—Staff writer Kyle L.K. McAuley can be reached at kmcauley@fas.harvard.edu...
After Tim Robbins' character in 1992's The Player gets away with murdering a screenwriter in a Los Angeles alley, the frazzled Hollywood exec absconds with Greta Scacchi into southern California's empty desert. There, in the candlelight of a cloistered getaway motel, Scacchi asks her homicidal flame, "Do places like this really exist...