Ridley Scott's next movie is sure to be less controversial than this summer's Prometheus, mostly because fewer people will bother to see it, but that would be their loss as The Counselor marks the first original screenplay by Pulitzer Prize winning novelist Cormac McCarthy.
Dan Aykroyd is tired of waiting for Bill Murray to commit, so he's moving on and taking Ghostbusters 3 with him.
Its plot holes are as big as the gaps between Milla Jovovich’s modesty covering ‘thermal bandages‘. It’s brash, and overblown, and wouldn’t recognise the word subtlety if it sat down next to it in a quiet, non-obvious manner. But for big, dumb, mind-blowingly stylish fun, you can’t do much better than The Fifth Element.
Opening on Joe Cole’s stern faced Tommy as he weightily paces through a dimly lit London alleyway, director Ron Scalpello wastes no time introducing us to the urban aggression of Offender. After Tommy’s deliberate assault on a police officer, he is sentenced to serve time in a young offender’s institution. As the verdict is given, a smirk appears across Tommy’s face. This is all part of the plan to exact brutal revenge, or justice as he calls it, on the gang who beat his pregnant girlfriend (Kimberley Nixon) to a pulp, tearing his world apart.
It is a truth universally acknowledged that any franchise in possession of a good profit must be in want of a wife. No, sorry; I meant spin-off.
Judgment is coming, just as soon as he finds a way off this roof.
Previously, I have no secret of my hatred for the Twilight franchise. But then ‘Sandersgate’ happened, and suddenly I find myself able to look past the vampiric sparkles and just enjoy the painful repugnance of a post-breakup PR campaign.