Halloween Contest 2025
20 hours ago


I really liked Terminator Salvation, which i completely did not expect to do. And might i just add that Sam Worthington aka Marcus Wright is really really really good looking. Lil Sis and me both agreed, for once.
=>What is your contribution to environmental conservation?Answer: I conserve air-conditioning at home by hanging out at a mall on weekends.
Our statuettes are plastic. Our carpet is more of a cranberry. And our tuxedos are at the cleaners. Also, our tastes are slightly more objective than those of the Academy members. So, without commercial interruption, shamelessly researched speeches, or a roll call of the dead, here's a lauding of the achievements in cinema that won't get properly lauded at this year's Academy Awards.
Terrific in both W. and Zack and Miri Make a Porno, she played Laura Bush and an amateur porn star in the same month. Nobody does the look of weary exasperation mixed with tenderness better, and there isn't a more common look that women give men. It's as if she were the middle child and only girl in a family of six brothers.
The most moving monologue of the year was the six-minute, one-take meditation on childhood dreams and fame at the heart of this movie: "When you're 13, you believe in your dream. Well, it came true for me. But I still ask myself today what I've done on this earth. Nothing! I've done nothing!" Melancholy and the capacity for astonishing violence always go well together.
The good news is that this movie tells you what young women want. The bad news is that they want you to be a vampire, filled with dark and eternal desires, but tender and controlled enough not to suck their blood. Also, it would be good if you looked like Robert Pattinson and had skin that shimmers like ground crystal in broad daylight.
Father Flynn [Philip Seymour Hoffman]: You haven't the slightest proof of anything.
An Irish assassin, played by Brendan Gleeson, offers constructive criticism to his gangster boss (Ralph Fiennes).
If you think about it too hard, the Catholic-pagan weltanschauung at the center of the Hellboy films just seems silly. Still, it's beautiful. From Bagpipe Player with the preserved torso for an instrument to the huge fish with the ink sac to the creature with mushrooms growing from his limbs, the world created by Guillermo del Toro is as frighteningly intense and sudden as the dreams you get when you sleep with a nicotine patch on your ass or consume strong blue cheese before bed.
Since the movie is a labor of love from Beastie Boy Adam Yauch, it should come as no surprise that the music is as innocent and cool as the genius basketball kids the movie celebrates. The fullest proof, if any were needed, of the lameness of Nick & Norah's Infinite Playlist, in which twee pop songs only add to the monotony of the characters' coy adventures in posing.
An 18-wheeler named the Dreadnought loaded with surface-to-surface missiles, 50-caliber machine guns, and a tank turret. It only comes in gray.
When Jason Statham puts on a suit, mere cloth becomes soft armor and a shortish British thug becomes somebody you aspire to be. Part of the attraction may be due to his particular technique of masculine dishabille: the collar slightly too large, the cuffs a bit too extended, the necktie skewed just so. The rest is a mysterious communion of man and clothing. It's not a statement to be made lightly, but the guy looks better in a suit than Robert De Niro.
The plain white gloves worn by the sadistic neighbors conjure at once the cruel indifference of butlers, scientists, and the guy who puts the ball back on the table in professional snooker. Those gloves say more about the human condition than the entire wardrobe of Sex and the City.
The only memento of love remaining on planet Earth is Hello, Dolly! Depressing and ludicrous but also, somehow, exactly right.
Threesome with Scarlett Johansson and Penélope Cruz. Woody Allen doing Henry James in Spain. Everybody wins
Tie — Samuel L. Jackson in Lakeview Terrace and Clint Eastwood in Gran Torino
Awards celebrate success, but some failures should be cherished. Mike Myers could make another five Austin Powers movies and then a nostalgic Wayne's World, please every executive at the studio, all the while earning enough money to warm his collection of homes by burning bricks of $100 bills. He instead chose to go way out on a limb and try to be absolutely hilarious. He landed on his ass and made a movie that nobody should watch but everybody should applaud.
It allows Robert Downey Jr. to separate terrorists from innocent civilians and kill only the terrorists. Half the problems in the world would disappear if that mask existed.
Everything wrong with the Oscars can be summed up by this fact: Nobody has ever won Best Actor for James Bond. We ex-pect them to ignore the best of high art — to pick Rocky over Taxi Driver. The problem is, they won't go low, either. James Bond is the John Wayne for men who live in big cities — the model of the sophistication, confidence, and aplomb needed to survive in complex societies. Daniel Craig's is the darkest Bond yet but also one of the most honest: a man facing a brutal world in which the enemy is secretive and unknown, and he's betrayed by all the institutions he cares about. Isn't art supposed to reflect the world unflinchingly, to "hold the mirror up to nature," no matter how uncomfortable the reflection may be? Quantum of Solace does it.

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