Really bombed out on movies tonight. Tried to watch The Osterman Weekend and found it to be a cheesy, testosterone-charged shlock-fest with no substance.

Then, moved onto the Majestic and found it to be a bland, dull-witted, knockout pill. Why did Jim Carrey think he could do serious acting?

Finally, settled on Gosford Park with some hopes because of the small amount of acclaim it received, but all that film seemed like to me was a fast-talking gathering of one-dimensional characters caught in the tangles of upperclass British snobbery that couldn’t hold my attention long enough to even make it to the mystery.

There’s a fine line between action and adolescent pseudo-masculinity and an even finer line between art and pretentiousness. Looks like I selected one film that crossed the former and two more that crossed the latter.

I’ve got to do a review on a movie I know I like so I don’t sound like a hater.


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