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Posts Tagged ‘2011’

I never went to an all-girls school, and certainly not a boarding school. I did, however, attend a girls’ summer camp for one month every summer from the ages of 10 to 17. From my experience there (an overwhelmingly positive one, I should clarify), I think I can extrapolate an understanding of the even more insular world of the year-round boarding school. Friendships in isolation accelerate at a faster clip and to a much deeper degree than out in the “real world.” Yet this setting can also intensify an adolescent girl’s worst impulses. The desire to fit in, the distaste for the unfamiliar and an underdeveloped sense of empathy is a noxious combination that, when multiplied across a group, can mutate into a mob mentality. There will always be girls who get hurt, and girls who look back later in disbelief, disturbed at their own indifference and cruelty.

The girls’ boarding school in Cracks is steeped in this atmosphere of intensely polarized emotion. The film starts as a British take on Mädchen in Uniform, the story of a relationship between a beloved teacher and her female students that, in a least one case, may be more than strictly pedagogical.  Di Radfield (Juno Temple) is the captain of the diving team and the favorite student of Miss G (Eva Green). At confession, Di admits to “lustful thoughts” about the gardener’s son, but he’s clearly not the only object of her desire. With her smoky-eyed Continental looks and her tales of exotic travels, Miss G is not just an engaging teacher and an attractive role model. She represents the world outside the boarding school and all the promise it holds for her students.

With the arrival of Spanish student Fiamma (Maria Valverde), though, the group’s idyllic existence begins to splinter. The girls are simultaneously fascinated by and jealous of this aristocratic foreigner with a mysterious (and, they imagine, romantic) past. After Fiamma’s elegant somersault pike at her first practice, Di no longer “sets the standard” in diving, and Miss G’s attentions begin to drift toward the new girl. Di, fearful of losing her place within the group, begins lashing out at Fiamma and enlists the other girls to do the same. Meanwhile, Fiamma, unsettled by Miss G’s fascination with her, rebuffs the teacher’s gifts and attention. She is the only student worldly enough to see through Miss G’s bohemian airs and adventure stories as fantasy, and to identify her impulsiveness and intense attachment to her students as something more sinister. The teacher, for her part, recognizes Fiamma as the sophisticate she only pretends to be. “You’re not like the other girls; they’re still waiting for their lives to begin,” Miss G tells her student, though she herself is just as inexperienced. The teacher can relate so well to her students because her emotions are also stalled in adolescence. Miss G desperately sacrifices everything just for her crush to notice her. When she doesn’t reciprocate … well, “cracks” is as much a verb as it is a noun.

Cracks is bound to draw comparisons with Lord of the Flies, although the underlying message is actually quite different. No matter how cruelly the girls treat Fiamma, their bullying comes from a place of petulance and insecurity. Only an adult, the film reminds us, has the capacity for true evil. The final act pushes this theme to almost absurd extremes, but director Jordan Scott never shatters the film’s dreamy yet troubled ambiance. Scott lavishes care on slow-motion shots of the girls diving through the air or dancing together at a secret midnight party, scenes that relax the escalating tension while simultaneously emphasizing the girls’ uneasy intermediacy between childhood and maturity. While (hopefully) few female viewers can relate directly to Cracks’s extreme plot, many more will recognize their own adolescence, refracted as through a shattered glass.

 

Cracks opens in theaters March 18.

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Saw (the first) tends to be remembered for two things: launching a seemingly unkillable movie franchise, and kicking off the fad for “torture porn” in the horror genre as a whole. But the original Saw isn’t just about watching a guy cut off his own foot any more than 127 Hours is just about watching a guy cut off his own arm. The true terror in Saw is the mental warfare between Jigsaw and his captives, inciting a Lord of the Flies-style blurring of the line between human civilization and animal instincts. The movie is also an ingenious example of how to make a horror film with no budget: keep it confined to one or two sets, use low-key lighting to mask makeup and effects, and extract as much fear as you can from the anticipation of terrible things to come. If the Saw sequels seem more concerned with upping the gore and sadism, well, blame Hollywood. But that first Saw is remarkably effective at creating a tense psychological atmosphere.

Saw director James Wan and screenwriter Leigh Whannell’s latest, Insidious, is a more traditional take on the horror genre. In fact, Insidious is retro to its core, drawing from haunted house pictures of the late ’70s and early ’80s like The Amityville Horror, The Shining and Poltergeist. The special effects are mostly practical rather than computer generated, and the spirits are portrayed by actual people in makeup and costumes. One of the major plot devices even involves astral projection, which I’d wager no one outside of a commune has thought about in decades. Yet Insidious is also remarkably scary for a PG-13 movie. Wan and Whannell have honed their psych horror skills to such a point that they don’t even need gore. A few too many of the frights come from things suddenly jumping out and the like, but for the most part they effectively sustain a base level of dread that at times verges on unbearable.  There’s a matter-of-factness about Insidious that anchors it in the real world, making it even creepier. The medium isn’t a Zelda Rubinstein-type eccentric, she’s a middle-aged woman in a cardigan and ballet flats. She’s accompanied by a pair of employees who check the house for faulty wiring before launching their paranormal investigation. The character most resistant to the idea of supernatural influence comes around fairly quickly, rather than raging absurdly against evidence to the contrary. Wan and Whannell do draw a few too many pulls from the well of horror movie clichés (marionettes and Tiny Tim records?), but they have good instincts for what scares people. Unlike Saw, Insidious is a bit too familiar to inspire leagues of imitators and sequels. Still, there’s a lot of pleasure to be drawn from an old-school horror movie that hits its marks in a genuinely frightening manner.

 

Insidious is in theaters April 1.

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I first saw the trailer for Paul before the screening of previous Fresh Celluloid subject The Adjustment Bureau.  My reactions were mixed.  On the one hand, Hot Fuzz and Superbad were two of my favorite movies of the past decade. A collaboration between the co-writer/cops of the former and the director/cops of the latter? Backed with a supporting cast that includes Jason Bateman, Bill Hader, Kristin Wiig, Joe Lo Truglio, Jane Lynch, David Koechner, John Carroll Lynch and Jeffrey Tambor? Seems promising! OK, the wisecracking CGI alien set off an alarm, but I could get past it. And maybe the marketing department just stuffed the trailer with the lowest common denominator jokes. Oh reader, how I hoped.

As it turns out, Paul is no Hot Fuzz.  It’s not even Run, Fatboy, Run. Sadly, the film it best resembles is Mac and Me, if it were sponsored by Comic Con instead of McDonald’s. Perhaps the strangest thing about Paul is that, in almost every way, it’s a kids’ movie.  Not just because it stars a child-sized humanoid extraterrestrial, but because of the cartoonish villains, the bodily function humor and the inevitable dollop of sentimentality.  Yet Paul is rated R, mostly for language that feels awkwardly shoehorned-in to attract an adult audience. It’s as if Pegg and Frost came up with the idea of “E.T. for adults” but couldn’t figure out what to do beyond making the alien a sarcastic stoner. Whereas Shaun of the Dead and Hot Fuzz ripped into genre clichés, Paul is all too willing to embrace them. Every time we’re presented with a tired scene, I’d wait expectantly for a subversive or ironic twist that never came. Paul careens from sophomoric humor to a half-hearted attempt at touchy-feely material that mostly rings hollow, both because it comes from nowhere and because the filmmakers constantly undercut it with lame jokes.

On the plus side, Pegg and Frost bring their always endearing heterosexual-life-partner chemistry, and Kristin Wiig (infinitely more likeable in movies than she is on SNL) is a natural fit as the potential love interest. Really, the entire cast brings their A-games; it’s just unfortunate that the ratio of funny people to funny jokes is so low. Then there’s the character of Paul himself, voiced ably if unsurprisingly by Seth Rogen. Unfortunately, CGI hasn’t advanced enough yet beyond dead eyes and jerky movements to create an empathetic lead character. Paul is not so much an extraterrestrial as a visitor from the Uncanny Valley.  And while merely looking at Paul is taxing, having to deal with an alien that has all the charm and wit of ALF (but eats birds instead of cats) is asking too much.

Director Greg Mottola has proven with movies like The Daytrippers and Adventureland that he has a knack for low-key comedies. Even Superbad is the smallest, most human entry in the Apatow canon (excluding Funny People). But the biggish-budget, special effects-reliant Paul needs a director like Edgar Wright who can make visuals pop and use editing to heighten jokes. In fact, Paul has made me wonder if Wright, as director and co-writer, was the real force propelling Spaced, Shaun of the Dead and Hot Fuzz into greatness.  Without Pegg and Frost, Wright made the visually inventive and appealing Scott Pilgrim vs. the World.  Without Wright, Pegg and Frost have made Paul. Hopefully, though, the real culprit is the ever-meddling Hollywood system. Made a couple of surprise hits out of clever in-jokes for genre geeks? Then please, write a broad comedy with as many easily-identifiable references as possible. The worst thing about Paul is not that it’s terrible; it’s that it’s mediocre. Given the talent involved, even an average film is a disappointment. Hopefully, Pegg and Frost (along with Wright as co-writer) can prove themselves again with this winter’s The Adventures of Tintin.  After all, that film’s director knows a thing or two about loveable talking aliens.

 

Paul opens in theaters March 18.

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So the 83rd Academy Awards – the only awards show that still kind of matters! – is tomorrow night.  Sadly, I will be unable to watch unless I stumble across a television.  But that won’t stop me from making a list of the nominees I’d like to see win.  I don’t care about who actually has the best chance of going home with the Oscar.  These are simply who I’d vote for if I were a member of the Academy.

BEST PICTURE
Seen ‘em all

In terms of sheer enjoyment, my favorites were True Grit, Black Swan and Toy Story 3.  But The Social Network strikes the ideal balance for a Best Picture winner: it speaks to the times it was released, but I could also see people studying it in film school 30 years from now.  Besides, I’m not going to hand it an award in another category anyway.

BEST ACTOR
Not seen:
Biutiful
Truly, 2010 was the year of THE FRANCO.  He was great in 127 Hours, great in Howl, great (I assume) in General Hospital and great at playing “James Franco” in “real life” (or is it???). I can’t hate on any of the nominees in this category, though. Biutiful looks kind of terrible, but I could buy that Javier Bardem brought the goods.  I’m sort of getting Mickey-Rourke-in-TheWrestler vibes for Colin Firth, by which I mean he’s a talented actor who’s unlikely to get another fighting chance at a Best Actor win, at least until he ages into an elder statesman.  And it would be kind of cool if Jesse Eisenberg won – but still not as cool as FRANCO.

BEST ACTRESS
Not seen:
Blue Valentine, Rabbit Hole
Consensus pick! I never had any particular affection for Natalie Portman, but she somehow manages to go balls-to-the-wall cuh-RAZY while still being vulnerable enough to invoke sympathy.  Kudos to Darren Aronofsky for following The Wrestler with another brilliant stroke of meta casting.  PS: Did Rabbit Hole ever actually come out?

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR:
Seen ‘em all

This is a toughie.  I guess Jeremy Renner’s just getting automatic nominations now post-The Hurt Locker.  I like him fine, but his work in The Town wasn’t his best.  John Hawkes was an interesting baddie in Winter’s Bone, but his performance wasn’t as memorable as Jennifer Lawrence’s.  I’d be happy with any of the other three, but I have to give special props to Christian Bale for actually being less over-the-top than the real Dicky Eklund.

BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS
Seen ‘em all

In contrast, this category is pretty humdrum.  Melissa Leo and Jacki Weaver are basically playing variations on the same Supporting-Actress-Oscar-Bait-role-for-women-of-a-certain-age (Leo the comic version, Weaver the creepy version).  Helena Bonham Carter’s barely a blip in The King’s Speech.  Amy Adams got nominated because her character swears and wears low-cut blouses, which is completely not what her persona is in real life! So we’re left with Hailee Steinfeld, who shouldn’t even be winning the Best Supporting Actress Oscar.  She should be busy winning the Best Actress Oscar instead.

BEST DIRECTOR
Seen ‘em all

David O. Russell and Tom Hooper made pretty conventional directorial decisions, which is especially shocking because Russell fashions himself an auteur (though I only really liked Three Kings; admittedly I still haven’t seen his first two).  The Coens are my favorite working directors, so I’m kind of always rooting for them, but I’ll save up my wishing dust for another day.  I’ll instead give Darren Aronofsky a slight nudge over David Fincher, mainly because I already picked The Social Network over Black Swan for Best Picture.

BEST ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY
Not seen:
Another Year
Inception
, of course.  Haters gonna whine that it was all exposition.  But if the exposition is entertaining, then what’s the problem?

BEST ADAPTED SCREENPLAY
Seen ‘em all

Here I’ll give it to the Coens, for somehow improving on a film that was already great.

BEST ANIMATED SHORT FILM
Seen ‘em all

If you saw Toy Story 3 in theaters, then you remember Day and Night.  Even after watching all of the nominees, it stood out as the most visually inventive and had a satisfying story arc.  Second place goes to Madagascar, a Journey Diary for its beautiful and clever use of mixed media.  Special bonus points to Bill Plympton’s short-listed (but not nominated) The Cow Who Wanted to Be a Hamburger, which was unfortunately shut out in favor of the one-note Let’s Pollute and the overlong The Gruffalo.

BEST LIVE ACTION SHORT FILM
Seen ‘em all

God of Love
, God of Love, God of Love. God of Love? God of Love! Not only was the short itself totally charming and funny, but it was the only one that made me excited to see a feature by the director.  Sadly, I doubt it’ll win, precisely because it is charming and funny.  It’s also the only nominee that’s not about Bad Things Involving Children.

BEST DOCUMENTARY SHORT FILM
Seen ‘em all

This was the strongest of the short film categories, but the two that stood out the most were Killing in the Name, in which a Jordanian Muslim whose wedding was bombed confronts the extremist group responsible, and Poster Girl, about a female Army sergeant who was trouble adjusting to life after Iraq.  I just slightly connected with Poster Girl more, but both are worthy contenders.  This category is also one of the few where I suspect my favorites will be the Academy’s as well.

BEST DOCUMENTARY FEATURE
Not seen:
GasLand, Inside Job, Waste Land
This may be the most frustrating category because of all the films that aren’t nominated.  Then again, maybe the three I haven’t seen are works of genius: Inside Job and Waste Land aren’t out on DVD yet, and GasLand has been a “Very Long Wait” since I pushed it to the top of my Netflix queue.  I’m split on the two I have seen.  Restrepo contains some astonishing, invaluable footage that in itself probably deserves the Oscar, but it could have used a real filmmaker to give it shape. Exit Through the Gift Shop, on the other hand, is highly entertaining.  It sure would be fun for it to win, especially since Banksy is bound to have some delightful prank cooked up – but it also feels kind of unfair to have it compete in the documentary category.  And really, Amir Bar-Lev’s 2007 doc My Kid Could Paint That is a more incisive examination of the modern art scene. (Bar-Lev also directed The Tillman Story, the film that should have won this category.)

BEST FOREIGN LANGUAGE FEATURE
Not seen:
Biutiful, In a Better World, Incendies, Outside the Law
OK, so the only nominee I’ve actually seen is Dogtooth.  And if the Academy gives the award to Dogtooth, then it would mean everything I thought I knew about the Oscars is wrong, and also I’m trapped in the wrong Fringe universe with Faux-livia.  The Academy will either give it to Biutiful (name recognition) or one of the three unknown picks (whichever is the most heartwarming).  But a morbidly dark comedy with a disturbing premise and several cringe-inducing scenes? Even if it is brilliant? Whatever’s Greek for “not a chance.”

BEST ANIMATED FEATURE
Not seen:
How to Train Your Dragon, The Illusionist
Again, I’ve only seen Toy Story 3, but I have a hard time believing the other two could possibly be better.  It’s a wise rule to never bet against Pixar, and Toy Story 3 is in my (probably unpopular) opinion the studio’s best movie since Toy Story 2.

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Misleading film trailers are sometimes called the movie the studio wish it made, not the one it actually did.  Based on The Adjustment Bureau’s marketing campaign, I suspect that someone at Universal wanted a conceptual sci-fi paranoid action thriller – in other words, The Bourne Inception.  At its heart, though, The Adjustment Bureau’s reference points are as retro as its villains’ gray flannel suits. Screen it in a triple feature with A Matter of Life and Death and It’s a Wonderful Life, and, aside from superficial exceptions like modern technology and fashions, you’d hardly know it wasn’t made in 1946. The Adjustment Bureau shares with those films a matter-of-fact approach to divine intervention and the earnest belief that true love conquers all.

The Adjustment Bureau borrows its premise from Philip K. Dick’s “Adjustment Team,” in which a mysterious cadre covertly alters humans’ reasoning and physiology to force them to choose certain options that affect the fate of the world.  Like Dick’s novel A Scanner Darkly, “Adjustment Team” is ambiguous as to whether the conspiracy actually exists or is just the product of the protagonist’s mental breakdown.  There’s no such room for interpretation in The Adjustment Bureau, though: Emily Blunt scarcely has time to question Matt Damon’s far-fetched claims before they’re diving through space-bending doorways and fleeing fedora-clad agents.  (There’s also a lot more running in the movie.)

Damon stars as David Norris, an up-and-coming New York politician who loses his US Senate race after a scandal reveals he got in a fight while in college.  (In other words, nothing that might turn the audience against him or be a scandal in real life.)  As he rehearses his concession speech in the men’s restroom, he discovers modern dancer Elise Sellas (Blunt) hiding from security after crashing a nearby wedding.  The next day, while commuting to his new job at his friend Charlie’s (Michael Kelly) office, David runs into Elise again on the M6 bus.  They strike up a conversation, and she hands him his phone number.  Elated, David steps into his new office, only to find himself in the middle of a bizarre scenario: his coworkers have been frozen in time, and a group of anachronistically-dressed men are scanning Charlie with strange antennaed devices.  David tries to escape, but the agents trap him in a secret room, where Richardson (John Slattery) informs David that he wasn’t supposed to see the adjustment or meet Elise again.  If David reveals to anyone what he witnessed, the agents will make sure his mind is wiped completely clean – not just of the adjustment he saw, but of all his memories.

The affable Damon is ideal as the film’s center, equally capable as action star and romantic hero.  He shares good chemistry with his co-stars, not just with Blunt but also Kelly as his best friend and Anthony Mackie as a sympathetic bureau agent.  The film is at its best in the smaller scenes that focus on these relationships.  David and Elise fall believably into love, and it only takes a few lines exchanged between David and Charlie to get a handle on their friendship. Writer/director George Nolfi has a good ear for scripting snappy yet natural-sounding dialogue, perfect for razzing on a buddy or flirting with a stranger.  Even the requisite throwing-out-the-speech-and-straight-talking-to-the-constituents scene acquits itself relatively well.  These human moments are so well-crafted, however, that they only emphasize the ridiculousness of the Adjustment Bureau scenes, which only get worse the more the agents reveal of their origins.  The exception is the encounters between David and senior agent Thompson, played by Terence Stamp with his signature blend of refined Cockney menace.  Those scenes stand out for being the only moments in the film that generate a real sense of danger.

The main problem with The Adjustment Bureau is its inability to settle on a proper tone.  The film is so fixated on the romance between David and Elise that it’s too soft-hearted to work as a conspiracy thriller.  David attempts to overthrow the Adjustment Bureau not because he has to save the world, but because he wants to be reunited with his true love.  As a result, the stakes are low, and it’s a safe bet that David and Elise will end up together, even if it means they have to break the bonds of fate. There’s also a strong spiritual current that’s unexpected in this type of modern big-budget Hollywood movie.  On the one hand, it adds to the film’s old-fashioned appeal.  On the other, it’s very hard to carry off if the filmmakers don’t commit to the idea completely, and I’m not so sure they do.

I’m curious to see how the audience will respond to The Adjustment Bureau. Will they be disappointed by the misleading ads? Unimpressed with the “conspiracy”? Too cynical for the mystical love story? While I don’t think The Adjustment Bureau is entirely successful in carrying out its ambitions, it’s still the kind of movie I wouldn’t mind becoming a hit.  The world could use a few more romantic dramas with such likeable leads and an endearingly earnest message.

 


The Adjustment Team opens in theaters March 4.

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One of the benefits of being a film buff in New York is that sometimes I get to see movies in advance of their US release date.  To cover these movies, I’m starting a new occasional series called Fresh Celluloid.

How to begin to describe Rubber? I could ask you to picture David Lynch and Charlie Kaufman remaking Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer as a comedy.  Except the killer uses psychokinesis to make his victims’ heads explode, like in Scanners.  Oh, and the killer isn’t actually a person – he’s a sentient automobile tire named Robert.  Now take whatever you’re imagining, but make it funnier, weirder and smarter.  You’re about a third of the way to understanding Rubber.

Try to look up information about Rubber online – or just go straight to IMDb – and you’ll get pages of people who balk at the very idea of the film.  (The Hater ranted about it a year ago today.)  There’re even people who claim the whole thing’s a hoax, pointing to the April 1 US release date as proof.  But friends, I have seen Rubber, and I’m here to tell you that it’s the best movie I’ve seen this year.  Yes, we’re only 35 days into 2011, and there hasn’t been much competition.  And Rubber is certainly a film the vast majority of the public will reject faster than a baboon heart without Prednisone.  Just check out those reviews. Try to count the number of times the word “boring” comes up.  A film about a tire coming to life and killing people?  If I thought that was boring, then I’d kill myself to escape life’s endless cycle of ennui.  Then there’re those who argue that the film’s too long.  Wrong.  It’s 84 minutes, each one of which is packed with a brilliant sight gag or an unexpected line.  I won’t even begin to discuss the reviewers who claim the film’s only watchable while on drugs.  I only weep for their lack of imagination.

But even if Rubber doesn’t end up being the year’s best film, it’s still the most original horror movie to come out in years.  In fact, I’m trying to think of another that could rival it (maybe eXistenZ?).  Best of all, it’s a future midnight movie staple that doesn’t require audiences to gulp it down with a heaping tablespoon of irony, like The Room or Birdemic: Shock and Terror. I referenced Lynch, Kaufman and Cronenberg, but director Quentin Dupieux (aka French house musician Mr. Oizo) is no imitator.  His is a wholly original vision.

Rubber, as Stephen Spinella’s character informs us in the prologue, is “an homage to the ‘no reason.’” Why is the alien in ET brown?  Why do the main characters fall in love in Love Story? Why does a tire come to life and start killing people? No reason.  (In that way, it reminds me a bit of the Coen Brothers’ A Serious Man: “accept the mystery.”)  Dupieux pairs the existentialist premise with a riff on the tropes of the serial killer picture.  There’re the scenes of Robert working up to his first kills.  He first explodes a beer bottle, then a rabbit, then a bird before taking out his first human.  He becomes infatuated with a beautiful French traveler and stalks her around the motel where they’re both staying.  There’s even a scene where Robert confronts his reflection in a mirror, his mind (?) abuzz with scenes from his previous murders. But as bizarre the story of a serial killing tire is, even stranger is the parallel metafictional plotline.  I’m hesitant to elaborate on that part, as that was one of the great surprises of the film and the source of much of its humor.  It also helps prevent Rubber from being a one-joke exercise.

What also keeps Rubber from being just another killer tire movie is the attention to detail.  The film looks great, shot in the California desert in a style that suggests late ‘70s-early ‘80s grindhouse, but with better production values and an eye for mise-en-scène.  The score – composed by Dupieux and Gaspard Augé of Justice – adds to the retro feel without coming off as pastiche, and is striking enough that it could stand on its own.  Stephen Spinella, Jack Plotnick and Wings Hauser, the humans who carry most of the film, strike just the right tone of perverse sincerity that keeps Rubber from collapsing into either a cheesy Z-picture or a dull parody.  But the true hero of the film is Robert himself, or rather puppeteer Valek Sykes, who gives the tire the subtle movements that make him seem almost human. When Robert first begins to roll on his own, he teeters like a baby learning taking its first tentative steps.  When he sleeps (as sentient murderous tires do), his rubber flesh rises and falls so evenly, you half-expect to hear him snoring.  Sometimes it’s just the way Robert turns to see what’s following him, or how he numbly channel-surfs.  You will believe a tire could kill!

As I said earlier, this is not a film for everyone, or really hardly anyone.  Even if you’re reading this right now and thinking, “Hey! This sounds like a movie I’d like,” there’s still a good chance you’d hate it.  I point this out not to knock those who dislike it as not able to “get it,” but to acknowledge that Rubber’s wavelength is a narrow one.  But if you’re the type of person who likes your horror movies funny and philosophical, and you don’t need a thrill every second or a head exploding every minute, then Rubber might just be the killer tire movie you never knew you wanted.

Rubber premieres On Demand February 25.  It opens in theaters April 1.

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