The corner of Hollywood Boulevard and Vine Street is a Los Angeles icon, once the heart of the city’s booming film production and now the nexus of the world-renowned Hollywood Walk of Fame. Usually, the most frightening thing a person will experience at the intersection is an encounter with improv comics attempting to strong-arm you into attending their latest show, but a new horror will soon dawn in the area. Locals now have bigger things to worry about than spending the day sad after accidentally overhearing an actor speaking to their agent on the phone.
Taking a cue from NBC’s tried-and-true “make it 1997 again through science or magic” business model, studio Lionsgate has decided that its best bet would be to return to the safe bosom of 2012. That was a simpler, kinder time for the production and distribution house; they were riding high, with one major franchise wrapping up and another colossal cash cow on the horizon. But in the years since The Hunger Games series reached its conclusion, Lionsgate hasn’t had a real hit. And in their search for the next big payday, they’ve gone the safest route by just giving the people more of what they want. Or rather wanted in 2012.
There’s a whole lot to talk through in the newly released trailer for Darren Aronofsky’s psycho-horror fever dream mother!, but first things first: when will casting directors stop marring Jennifer Lawrence off to disproportionately older men? She was 17 years Christian Bale’s junior in American Hustle, 16 years younger than Silver Linings Playbook costar Bradley Cooper, and 14 years behind Joy’s Edgar Ramirez. Now, she trails newest romantic opposite Javier Bardem by a staggering 22 years. Is all of Hollywood under the impression that she’s Benjamin Buttoning, and secretly in her mid forties? We love to rag on Passengers (because it is not a good film, to be fair), but at least it gave Lawrence a boytoy slightly closer to her age range.
Hard to believe that eight years have already passed since Michael Jackson’s death, but time’s a goon like that. And as the King of Pop settles in the ground, the question of what shape his legacy will take must be answered. While we’d be remiss to gloss over the ethical lapses and general trainwreckishness of the man’s final years (and doubly remiss not to point out the cruel, exacting factors in his life that drove him to that mental state), the time has come for a bit of enshrinement. Next month, the Michael we prefer to remember — the virtuosic performer, the boundary-pushing titan of black art — will return for a glorious new tribute.
It’s a Minion world, and we’re all just living in it. The little pill-shaped yellow critters have left an indelible imprint on the cultural mainstream, for better (footage not found) or for worse (try googling “minions memes,” I dare you). Kids and adults alike have latched onto the phenomenon with an uncommon enthusiasm, and now the numbers reflect the totality with which the Despicable Me universe has permeated modern life. In the seven brief years since Illumination Entertainment loosed the original Despicable Me on an innocent populace, the franchise has grown into the largest of its kind — the highest-grossing animated franchise of all time.
It’s August now, and horrifying as the information that 2017 is more than half over may be, it’s still a good time to take a step back and take stock of how the year has been going so far. For Earth, and to a greater extent, America — not good. For the movies — pretty great! The first half of the year has seen a generous number of strong releases at the arthouse and multiplex, and review aggregation site Metacritic has done us a service in our effort to keep track of it all.
Channing Tatum’s a delight — fleet-footed dancer, lovably lunkheaded actor, and crooner of the occasional showtune, he’s got more of a claim to the title of America’s sweetheart than just about anybody. But while I may love Channing Tatum, and you may love Channing Tatum, he’s got one critic he just can’t seem to win over: his four-year-old daughter Everly.
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