The harrowing story of an intersex teenager struggling to establish her identity. Or is that his identity? See, even we’re confused…
Mike Leigh’s gentle send-up of neighbourly relations is as enjoyable now as it was in the Seventies.
With the final instalment of the Toy Story trilogy opening in cinemas this week, it’s no wonder that parents (and grown-ups furtively pretending to be parents in order to justify their DVD collection) are stocking up on the celebrated parts one and two. Already being hailed as one of history’s most successful film trilogies, it looks like we’ll be seeing a lot more DVD love from Woody, Buzz and the entire Toy Story team. And we couldn’t be happier about it.
Before watching I Hate Luv Storys I was a Bollywood virgin. I was aware of some of its conventions – its vibrancy, its musicality, the way it revels in artifice – but beyond that I was painfully naïve. So, armed with my postage-stamp sized amount of knowledge of Hindi cinema, I set about popping my Bollywood cherry. Sadly, like so many hungover 16 year olds, I find myself instantly regretting this awkward first encounter. Bloated, dull and repetitive, I Hate Luv Storys has nothing to offer beyond reheated romantic clichés from Hollywood and Bollywood alike.
To go or not to go, ‘it all begins…with a choice’. If you are able to stomach the sickly musings of young love, then I promise you will be rewarded by the visuals of this captivating story.
Whatever happened to SatC’s spark? The programme’s USP was originally its progressive approach to modern women with modern sex lives, but at what point did someone think that ‘Cynthia Nixon getting them out’ constituted a sociosexual statement?
Generally speaking, romantic comedies fail to deliver on at least half their remit. So when you find a film which genuinely makes your heart ache as much as your stomach, it’s worth celebrating. Heartbreaker is just such a film.
The vampire has become so well integrated into popular culture it is hard to imagine a time when a romance didn’t come with fangs, and their recent resurrection can be attributed to one film: Twilight. With one brooding scowl from R-Pattz the world was divided into two groups: swooning squealing Twi-hards and, well, sane people. Yes, as you may have guessed I am not exactly what you’d call a fan. I have never read the books and anything that makes a teenage girl scream like a banshee in my vicinity was always going to provoke feelings of intense hate from me. However, even I can admit Twilight is not without its good qualities.
Morgan Freeman lends his hypnotic, rasping voice (is it wrong that a seventy-three year old man can make me go weak at the knees?) to yet another screen classic, as he..
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