* The 400 Blows
Francois Truffaut's massively influential debut feature tells the story of a schoolboy named Antoine Doinel (Jean-Pierre Leaud) and his luckless but uncontested slide toward a life of crime. Movie Legends, Sun March 7 at 1 pm.
The African Queen
SAM's Katharine Hepburn series wraps up with this Hepburn and Humphrey Bogart vehicle, set on the titular riverboat during World War I. Seattle Art Museum, Thurs March 11 at 7:30 pm.
Cartoons from the 1930s
Betty Boop, Dick and Larry, and Flip the Frog, among others, star in these vintage animated shorts. Rendezvous, Fri March 5 at 7:30 pm.
* A Certain Kind of Death
Death has become so abstract, hasn't it? On the one hand you have Hollywood's high body counts, in which death turns a body into a prop; on the other hand you have those who have turned death (including near-death and the dead who come back and talk to TV show hosts) into a spiritual moneymaker. But Blue Hadaegh's and Grover Babcock's A Certain Kind of Death (which won awards at both Sundance and the Atlanta Film Festival) concentrates on a facet of death so unromantic as to be positively dry: the necessary work of digging up the next of kin for people who die quietly and anonymously in Los Angeles SROs. There's no trace of L.A. noir here, just a bureaucratic process like any other, informed by its own jargon (the dead guy is called "the decedent") and assembly line-ish process from the investigator (one, taking a cell phone call on the job, says, "I'm wrapping up a body--what are you doing?") to the people who search for family and disposed of personal effects to crematorium workers. Somehow this orderly process--with a few startling moments of real gore, of bodies partly ravaged by maggots--has the effect of returning dignity to people who die without fanfare. Even as numbers on a case file they get full, equal, oddly compassionate treatment. Too bad they had to die first. Directors will be in attendance at every screening. (EMILY HALL) Consolidated Works, Fri-Sun 8 pm.
The Cinema of Dreams
From "A Trip to the Moon" to "Naughty Lulu," these fantasy films made ingenious use of early special effects. Rendezvous, Sat March 6 at 7:30 pm.
Door-to-Door Maniac (AKA Five Minutes to Live)
Johnny Cash always cut an ominous rebel figure. He was able to transcend genre, medium, and, in the case of Door-to-Door Maniac, terrible movies to sear a mark as black as his moniker on pop culture. Cash's rare first feature film, 1961's Door-to-Door Maniac, has a plot plugged with more holes than a mob stool pigeon, as Cash plays a guitar-playing crook hooked up with a harebrained partner (Vic Tayback). The pair attempt to rob a bank by having Cash hold its vice president's wife hostage in her home, unaware both that the VP is having an affair, and that the family's young son (Ron Howard) could foul up the plan. The women in Maniac are laughably helpless, the men are cheerily void of personality, and both the action and dialogue are awkward. But the real--and only--reason you should see this is Cash, who burns through celluloid with an imposing sexiness and outlaw resolution that (mostly) transcends the tripe surrounding him. (JENNIFER MAERZ) Little Theatre, Fri-Sun 7, 9 pm.
Drive Thru: Australia
A surfing movie from the folks who brought you Drive Thru: California and Drive Thru: Japan. Rendezvous, Thurs March 11 at 7:30 pm.
* Emerald Reels Super-8 Lounge
The Super-8 Lounge returns after losing its home in the now-defunct Sit & Spin and finding a new home at Re-bar. A flurry of short films in a nightclub setting, the presentation is grounded by two 16 mm pieces which give shape to the rest of the program: Martha Colburn's Cat's Amore brings forward cat themes, crudely playful animation, and painting on film, while Tony Gault's Not Too Much Remember brings in the idea of using found footage. The core of the program is a batch of Super-8 films that follows those themes, many of which are local and all of which will have soundtracks mixed live by KEXP DJ Kid Hops. Favorites include the claymation cigarette factory workers of the Swiss Die Zigarettenfabrik, the austere b/w footage of Down to the Graveyard, the improvised road trip narratives of Adrienne Stacy and company, and the obscure visual poetry of Trish Van Heusen and Reed O'Beirne. (ANDY SPLETZER) Re-bar, Wed March 10 at 9 pm.
Films from the Silent Era
A diverse selection of silent shorts, from Emile Cohl's 1906 The Hasher's Delirium to Felix the Cat in the 1928 film The Oily Bird, plus the requisite Chaplin and Disney. Rendezvous, Thurs March 4 at 7:30 pm.
"Funny like a clown?" Egyptian, Fri-Sat midnight.
* Irish Reels
Say what you want about Seattle's film scene (and you'd better say something good, since it's really rather splendid), but this sleepy burg isn't lacking for festivals. From the massive SIFF to the Northwest Film Forum's beautiful Childish Film Festival (with visits, yearly, from the Polish and the Jewish), our city seems to average a film festival a month. And since it's March, it's time for the Irish to get their screentime, hence the seventh annual Irish Reels Film Festival, occuring March 4-14 at the Harvard Exit, 911 Media Arts Center, the Seattle Art Museum, and Seattle Center. Opening this year's fest is Intermission, a solid, surprisingly entertaining film from Dublin that stars Colin Farrell, Cillian Murphy, and Colm Meaney. Produced by Neil Jordan, and directed by John Crowley, Intermission appears at first glance to be your standard crime and caper affair (bank job, shady cops, hooligans, etc.), but the thumps from a rather large heart can be heard throughout the production, and the performances across the board help lift the film above its coarseness. Farrell, with his accent in full bloom, is especially wonderful to watch; S.W.A.T. and Daredevil may have soured you on him, but his performance in Intermission, especially in the opening, serves as a handy reminder that he does indeed have talent. Some other highlights from the festival: A tribute to the genius of the aforementioned Neil Jordan, including screenings of his dark and beautiful The Company of Wolves, his moody lowlife yarn Mona Lisa, and, of course, The Crying Game; two documentaries--The Struggle (about Ireland's battles for nationhood), and Dust Devils (Irish artists at Burning Man); an outright crime and caper affair called Headrush; another documentary, Shalom Ireland, about the country's small Jewish community; and finally, Mystics, a comedy about two actors who find themselves entangled with a local gang family. And after all these films? A pint or two at Fado's Irish Pub (801 First Ave) on Sunday, March 7. See www.irishreels.org for more information. Harvard Exit, Thurs March 4, Intermission with short Yu Ming is Anim Dom at 7 pm. 911 Media Arts, Fri March 5, The Struggle with short Full Circle at 7 pm, Dust Devils with short Walking the Dog at 9 pm. Seattle Art Museum, Sat March 6, The Company of Wolves at 2 pm, Mona Lisa at 4 pm, Crying Game at 6:15 pm, and Film Rap with Warren Etheridge at 8 pm; Sun March 7, Cowboys & Angels at 2 pm, Headrush with short Two Fat Ladies at 4 pm, Shalom Ireland with short Finbar Leibowitz at 6 pm, Mystics with short Fall Into Half-Angel at 8 pm. (BRADLEY STEINBACHER)
Kill, Baby, Kill
The "Classics & Oddities of Italian Cinema" series continues with this supremely gothic story of a turn-of-the-century village haunted by the murderous ghost of a little girl. Rendezvous, Wed March 10 at 7:30 pm.
Movies of Mass Destruction
Annihilation and catastrophe, projected for your viewing pleasure. Sunset Tavern, Mon March 8 at 8 pm.
On the Theme of Teens
A screening of locally produced shorts about adolescence, including the music video Shadow, the documentary Growing Up a Mother, and the abstract work Obsession At First Sight. Central Cinema, Sat March 6 at 4 pm.
Pat and Mike
Katharine Hepburn and Spencer Tracy team up again, this time as a ladies' golf champ and her shady manager, respectively. Seattle Art Museum, Thurs March 4 at 7:30 pm.
When students in the Beijing Opera learn the intricate acrobatics involved in their craft they wear red trousers. At the dawn of filmmaking in China there were no stuntmen, so they would pull "red trousers" out of the Opera to do their stunts, which is how they got their nickname. Let me now say that these stuntmen are insane! In interview after interview, we hear people talk about how they're asked do stunts where they figure there's up to an 80% chance they'll be hospitalized. This doesn't stop them. To back down from a stunt would mean losing face and eventually losing work. Then we see the stunts, and we wonder why there wasn't a 100% chance they'd be killed. Interviews with Sammo Hung and other famous stuntmen/choreographers are interesting, but along with the gloriously painful outtakes and classic clips, director (and star of Mortal Kombat) Robin Shou intercuts a crappy short film called "Lost Time" into the mix. The documentary is good, the film within the film is bad, but overall the movie is worth seeing. NOTE: At the 7 pm screening on Sunday, two of the stuntmen from the movie will show their stuff. The director will also be in attendance. (ANDY SPLETZER) Varsity, Fri-Sat 2:10, 4:30, 7, 9:20 pm, Sun 2:10, 4:30, 7, 9:40 pm, Mon-Thurs 7, 9:20 pm.
"Reel" Cinerama Film Festival
Two of the seven total films made in the three-strip Cinerama format (This is Cinerama and How the West Was Won) will be shown at this year's festival, plus a bunch more stuff that looks good in a fancy retro theater. All films screen at Cinerama. See Movie Times for details.
The Ingrid Bergman Film Festival continues with this 1935 film, featuring a 20-year-old Ingrid Bergman as a member of a family headed toward financial trouble unless the father scoops up a Nobel Prize. Nordic Heritage Museum, Thurs March 4 at 7 pm.
Ingrid Bergman stars as a put-upon secretary in this 1935 film, directed by Gustaf Edgren. Nordic Heritage Museum, Thurs March 11 at 7 pm.
* When We Were Kings
A documentary about the much-publicized "Rumble in the Jungle," a 1974 showdown between Muhammad Ali and George Foreman in Zaire. On the House, Fri March 5 at 7 pm.
* 21 Grams
Though fragmented and seemingly random, 21 Grams is musical; it feels, moves, and concludes like a massive musical composition. (CHARLES MUDEDE)
50 First Dates
After suffering a head injury, Lucy (Drew Barrymore) has lost her short-term memory. She wakes up every morning with a clean slate, remembering everything up until her accident, but nothing after that. Henry Roth (Adam Sandler) is a commitment-fearing man-whore, taking advantage of Hawaii's plethora of tourists looking for hot one-night stands. It's a match made in heaven. But stupid emotions get involved (they always ruin every perfect plan), and Henry falls for Lucy. In order to continue a relationship, he has to come up with new ways to get her attention every day. Sounds silly, for sure. But know what? It's cute and funny too. (MEGAN SELING)
Against the Ropes
Against the Ropes is a dull, bland, and obvious piece of tripe. Meg Ryan is shockingly miscast, the direction is lazy, and the picture as a whole is surprisingly feeble-headed. I beg of you: Stay far, far away. (BRADLEY STEINBACHER)
Along Came Polly
You know a movie can't be all bad when Phillip Seymour Hoffman falls down within the first 20 seconds. (EMILY HALL)
The Barbarian Invasions
Really, I can't understand how this film has gotten any good reviews at all. (ANDY SPLETZER)
Barbershop 2: Back in Business
This movie will make you laugh as long as you don't recall that it's being released during the month we celebrate black history, in which case it will make you cry. This piece of shit cinema is what we get after 500 years of struggle for liberation, civil rights, and black nationhood. (CHARLES MUDEDE)
Tim Burton's Big Fish is an ungainly, rambling piece of work built upon a bed of lies. The liar: a man named Ed Bloom who has spent his life spinning outrageous tales about himself, including run-ins with witches and giants, Siamese twins, and massive, uncatchable fish (hence the title). Sappy and cluttered, the entirety of Big Fish doesn't quite hold together. (BRADLEY STEINBACHER)
Broken Lizard's Club Dread
With jokes that are purposefully stupid, but not dumb enough to be funny, Broken Lizard's Club Dread has all the plot of a slasher film but none of the suspense. It's an unfunny "comedy" with long stretches of boring plot twists. Trying desperately to become a pale imitation of Scary Movie, it turns out to be a pale imitation of Volunteers. As created by the sketch comedy group Broken Lizard, the characters are nothing more than cardboard cutouts, with only the new island masseuse Lars (Kevin Heffernan) coming close to being likeable. Oh, and Bill Paxton puts more energy than needed into Coconut Pete (a Jimmy Buffett knockoff), but all for naught. A friend of mine who saw Broken Lizard's Super Troopers says it's funnier and not as dull, so you might want to rent that instead. (ANDY SPLETZER)
* Bus 174
See review this issue.
The Butterfly Effect
Dude, where's my chaos theory? The latest feature-length advertisement for Ashton Kutcher's bone structure, this film is so stultifyingly poor that unless you're (a) 12 years old, (b) a sadly desperate gay man/straight woman with a thing for hunky morons, or (c) 13 years old, you really have no business watching. (SEAN NELSON)
At the end of Calendar Girls I walked out of the theater knowing the film wasn't quite as good as the condition of Helen Mirren's naked breasts made me want to believe it was. (KATHLEEN WILSON)
Catch That Kid
This review would be a whole lot easier to write if I were writing about a movie that had any sort of substance. But I'm not writing about a movie that has substance, so I'll keep things simple: This movie is about go-carts. (MEGAN SELING)
Cheaper by the Dozen
Speaking from a former nanny's point of view, unless you're expressly accompanying a child, don't be tempted by Cheaper by the Dozen's star power. (KATHLEEN WILSON)
* City of God
Set in hell (a heated Rio de Janeiro ghetto) and narrated by a young newspaper photographer named Rocket (Alexandre Rodrigues), Cidade de Deus (City of God) describes the rise and fall of the legendary, psychopathic gangster Li'l Zé, who, after murdering every obstacle in his way, mercilessly rules the ghetto's turbulent drug trade. Though great to watch, Cidade de Deus curiously fails to comment on the reason why most of the people who live and die in the ghetto are brown, beige, and black. (CHARLES MUDEDE)
* Cold Mountain
Anthony Minghella steers the film into a few minor rough spots (including a somewhat clumsy beginning, and an occasionally annoying performance by Renée Zellweger as a lodger who helps Nicole Kidman on her farm), but the picture as a whole delivers a big, heartfelt epic. (BRADLEY STEINBACHER)
* The Company
The Company is very much a dance movie, but not in the sentimental way that The Turning Point was. This is to say that you'll see a lot of dance, much of it lovely, threaded in among the lives and rehearsals of the movie's characters like a kind of fever dream--rising out of the everyday, a better, more beautiful, more artful version of normal interaction. (EMILY HALL)
Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen
Mary (Lindsay Lohan) is a New York City teenager forced to move to New Jersey, where, displaced, she can't understand how she's supposed go about her goal of becoming world-famous. Every teenager, like every fag, wants to become world-famous, but what Mary (who demands that everyone call her Lola) has going for her is, yes, the exotic nickname, but also a thin teenage figure and giant, heaving balloons for breasts, which the costumers for this movie have accentuated to the point of indecent exploitation. The story of Mary clawing her way to the top of the ranks of the New York City pop music megastar echelon while simultaneously enduring the daily doldrums of high school is basically retarded, and the actor playing Mary's high-school love interest is clearly a fag-in-waiting, but this quasi-musical (it's for kids) is riveting because, again, Lohan's breasts are really, really juicy. (CHRISTOPHER FRIZZELLE)
In The Cooler, director Wayne Kramer has managed to give audiences something all too rare in films these days: a sexy scene that not only causes the audience to flush, but makes sense to them as well. But the film itself feels cluttered and unfocused, especially as it limps toward a ridiculous climax. (BRADLEY STEINBACHER)
Dirty Dancing: Havana Nights
Dirty Dancing: Havana Nights works hard to drench its viewers with all the hot Latin passion they can handle. The end result: the tripiest tripe in Tripetown. (BRADLEY STEINBACHER)
Bertolucci's film fails on nearly every front it engages; messy and confused, the picture annoys when it should inspire, frustrates when we wish it would fascinate, and its NC-17 release, though splendid to see, will most likely flounder. (BRADLEY STEINBACHER)
Both homophobic and homoerotic (there are more penises in this movie than you'll find in a straight porno), this playful teen comedy is actually funny at times, throwing a bevy of gags at the wall (incest jokes, Hitler jokes, Pope jokes, fag jokes, S&M jokes, and even a little mime skit). Some stick and keep things moving at a pleasant clip. (JOSH FEIT)
* The Fog of War
War is never a clean affair, and looking back on Vietnam--even with a firsthand guide such as the film's subject, Robert McNamara--it appears no cleaner. Some have complained about McNamara's refusal to fully admit his guilt--they seem to want him to apologize for the whole affair. No such words appear to be coming from the former secretary of defense, but what he offers instead is in some ways more interesting. McNamara is quite obviously riddled with guilt about Vietnam, which was a pitiful tragedy. As The Fog of War artfully shows us, McNamara is now a pitiful, tragic figure himself. (BRADLEY STEINBACHER)
Girl with a Pearl Earring
Girl with a Pearl Earring is stuffy to a fault, no matter how many shots of Scarlett Johansson's pout director Peter Webber can fit in, and the final tally falls somewhere between the best of Merchant Ivory and the worst of Merchant Ivory. (BRADLEY STEINBACHER)
See review this issue.
House of Sand and Fog
House of Sand and Fog is about many things, including stature and safety, racism and compassion, history and addiction. What it is not about, sadly, is subtle directing. (BRADLEY STEINBACHER)
Director Jim Sheridan always turns up the emotion in his films, but at least his earlier movies took place in faraway Ireland. When all this emotion is suddenly close to home and out of its usual cultural environment, it's rather obnoxious and exasperating. Like a truck whose brakes have been tampered with, the emotion in this movie rolls uncontrollably down a steep road, swerving from side to side, until it finally hits a big tree. (CHARLES MUDEDE)
We have all seen The Last Samurai before when it was called Gladiator, or Lawrence of Arabia, or Dances with Wolves, and because of this, all the film can offer is the sight of Tom Cruise wielding a lengthy sword--a thought sure to excite fans of childish metaphor, but they may be the only ones. (BRADLEY STEINBACHER)
* Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King
After greeting the first two films with slack-jawed reverence, I found myself viewing the third with a kind of grumpy anticipation. What I soon discovered, however, was that the begrudging-ness of my affection for the film was no match for Peter Jackson's swashbuckling craft. If this is just a fantasy, Jackson seems to say, it's going to deliver on every level available. (SEAN NELSON)
* Lost In Translation
Lost in Translation is a tiny movie, as light as helium and draped upon the thinnest of plots. It is as close to a miracle as you're likely to get this year. (BRADLEY STEINBACHER)
The Lost Skeleton of Cadavra
A spoof of cheesy B-movie monster movies from the '50s, this film revolves around two scientists, a pair of aliens, a monster, and a cursed skeleton bent on ruling the world. Some of the jokes in the film ring true, such as the scientist constantly proclaiming that he must "get to work on science," but the overall result is fairly tame and, on many occasions, uninspired. (BRADLEY STEINBACHER)
"Trite" doesn't begin to describe Love Actually. (JENNIFER MAERZ)
* Master and Commander
If Master and Commander sounds soundly square, that's because square is exactly what the film is; massive and solidly made, Peter Weir's picture is a throwback, of sorts, to the works of David Lean, delivering the sort of rousing, smart, and earnest adventure rarely seen nowadays. Big and loud, thrilling and expensive, it is the type of film that only major Hollywood studios can produce. (BRADLEY STEINBACHER)
The prominent display of muscular young men achieving glory through physical exertion is not the only way in which sports movies are like pornography. The other big similarity lies in audience expectations; because the destination is a foregone conclusion in both forms, the pleasure of watching has got to be all about the journey. Miracle is good because it delivers a solid 90 minutes of credible buildup to a finale that is a matter of public record. (SEAN NELSON)
Mona Lisa Smile
There is an extraordinary scene in Mike Newell's Mona Lisa Smile, an emotionally brutal few moments in which Kirsten Dunst's perilously cracked veneer splinters away, releasing a storm of cruel, outward criticism in footage that aches with the character's underlying self-hatred. (KATHLEEN WILSON)
See review this issue.
There are many things that work in Monster, beginning with the much-praised performance by its lead, Charlize Theron. Saddled with 20 extra pounds, buried beneath grime and makeup, Theron is outright amazing. However, on the whole, the picture is so bleak and depressing that it is nearly intolerable. (BRADLEY STEINBACHER)
* My Architect
My Architect isn't really about architecture, nor even about Louis I. Kahn himself, except insofar as the late master builder and his immortal buildings remain an enigma to his son Nathaniel, the filmmaker behind this extraordinary documentary. Nathaniel Kahn's film is about the void created by a father's absence from his children's lives, and the way that void is continually filled and depleted by the father's reputation. More specifically, My Architect questions the conceit that artistic genius needn't be beholden to petty human strictures like family. Complicating matters is the (well-documented, apparently unarguable) fact that, unlike most fathers who abandon their wives, lovers, and kids for the sake of their art, Louis I. Kahn actually was a genius. (SEAN NELSON)
For all the "inexorability" and "meditation" of its violence, Mystic River feels desperately contrived. (SEAN NELSON)
The Taliban in Osama are relentlessly cruel to women, and this is why the film is so impressive and courageous; the director, Siddiq Barmak, so wants to get to the essence of suffering--to precisely what a moment in suffering feels like to the accursed--that it never seems to have a border, a point at which it began and will end. Suffering is, by its nature, eternal. (CHARLES MUDEDE)
The Passion of the Christ
Under Mel Gibson's direction, there is not a whiff of threat in Jim Caviezel's Jesus, and once all the blood has dried, the major villains are little more than mindless monsters, with the Jews, in the end, receiving the brunt of the blame. Because of this, Jesus himself loses most of his humanity as well, and causes The Passion of the Christ to lose its effectiveness for anyone beyond rigid believers. (BRADLEY STEINBACHER)
P. J. Hogan's Peter Pan is big and colorful and only occasionally scary. It is also aimed directly at the tykes; sugary and sappy, it is a triumph of special effects and completely harmless as entertainment. Which may be its biggest problem. Unlike Pixar's work, or the Harry Potter films, Peter Pan offers very little for adults--or at least adults sans children--to appreciate. (BRADLEY STEINBACHER)
* The Revolution Will Not Be Televised
Initially, The Revolution Will Not Be Televised was meant to be a simple profile of Venezuelan president Hugo Chavez--a headstrong brown man who has the balls of a bull, the air of a visionary, and the courage of a madman. While filming, though, Kim Bartley and Donnacha O'Briain suddenly found themselves documenting, on April 12, 2002, the fall of a president besieged by his right-wing (and evidently CIA-supported) opponents. Chavez is defiant at first, but then surrenders, not because he is scared but because he doesn't want blood to be shed. And this is the truth that The Revolution Will Not Be Televised brings to light, a truth that was pretty much ignored/obscured by CNN and other American news sources: Chavez does not see himself as the most important human in Venezuela--if such were the case he would have fought to the death to stay in power. (CHARLES MUDEDE)
Something's Gotta Give
Do you really want to see Jack Nicholson's bare ass? (EMILY HALL)
Starsky & Hutch
See review this issue.
Touching the Void
I'm not sure if Joe Simpson and Simon Yates are still active mountaineers, but it is clear that just speaking about their famous climb in this drama-documentary, detailing it in that near-formal language which distinguishes professional mountaineers from amateurs, gives them a pleasure that is satanic in its size and intensity. (CHARLES MUDEDE)
* The Triplets of Belleville
Writer-director-animator Sylvain Chomet invokes the same absurdly entertaining nostalgia that Jean-Pierre Jeunet and Marc Caro tapped into for Delicatessen and City of Lost Children. The world Chomet has created contains the same deadpan sadness that lies at the base of those films--the world may be a cold and lonely place, but with a little inventiveness you can prosper. (ANDY SPLETZER)
Nothing in Philip Kaufman's thriller Twisted is worth recommending. It's set in San Francisco and concerns an alcoholic cop (Ashley Judd), whose father killed himself after killing her mother. She was only six when this happened, and now the tragedy looms over her life like a dark cloud over the city of San Francisco. However, she has a father figure in the proud police commissioner, Samuel L. Jackson, who knew her parents and has brought her up to become what her real father ultimately failed to be: a good cop. The police commissioner also likes to drink wine; indeed, wine has a leading role in this depthless film. After being promoted to homicide, Judd is handed her first case, which by sheer coincidence involves solving the murders of men she has had one-night stands with. Yes, she sleeps around; yes, she likes her sex rough and with all the risks that a condom might protect her from. Because of the freaky sex, and a serial killer who is darkly connected to her unsafe habits, Twisted has several similarities with two other equal bad films, Jane Campion's In The Cut and Mathieu Kassovitz's Gothika. (CHARLES MUDEDE)
Welcome to Mooseport
Coming down off a presidency can be hard, especially if your hometown is Mooseport, Maine (or--cross your fingers--Crawford, Texas).
You Got Served
You Got Served wouldn't be a bad and boring movie if it weren't for the hour and 20 minutes of crappy dialogue and unnecessary (not to mention uninteresting) drama that exists between some very badass break-dancing sequences. (MEGAN SELING)
The Young Black Stallion
Are you an 11-year-old girl who loves horses? No? Then, I'm afraid to say, this might not be the movie for you. Sorry. (AMY JENNIGES)