Annapolis
REVIEWED 01/06, © STEPHEN BOURNE
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REVIEW:

Flavour of the month James Franco ('Spider-Man 2' (2004), 'The Great Raid' (2005)) stars as sullen shipyard welder turned rebellious Naval Academy plebe Jake Huard strangely reviving scenes from 'An Officer and a Gentleman' (1982) opposite Tyrese Gibson ('Baby Boy' (2001), 'Four Brothers' (2005)) playing perpetually grimacing Midshipman Lieutenant Matt Cole in this surprisingly mediocre flick from director Justin Lin ('Better Luck Tomorrow' (2002)). Sure, 'Annapolis' does contain a few brief moments of vaguely fresh dialogue, but it's incredible just how pedantic and unimaginative this hundred and eight-minute snooze fest actually is over-all. It's terribly predictable. It's bloated with clichéd stereotypes. And, it drags on way too long for its own good. The primary story about Huard wanting to be in the Academy and then not wanting to be in the Academy, and then wanting to be in the Academy but unsure about being in the Academy is so outrageously silly that it gives the impression that joining the US Naval Academy these days is like signing up for Gym Class in Twelfth Grade high school. Maybe it is (although they sure make it sound like it's really, really tough to get in), but it sure doesn't make for a compelling or believable movie as presented here. It's as though screenwriter David Collard watched a whole bunch of old Hollywood sea dog films as a source of research for this half baked script, never bothering to actually find out what it's truly like to join the Navy. That's the first thing that's quite obvious while slogging through this one. The second odd thing about 'Annapolis' is that it seems as though some of the footage seen in the ad for it was grabbed from the comparably explosive out takes as opposed to what's in the final cut. So, you've got a skimpy main story, a bit of secondary ones that amount to little more than forgettably familiar diversions, the remaining accumulated hour or so that's basically cheesy filler, and not everything that's used to promote it appears on the big screen. The entire simmering love angle between Franco's character and that of Jordana Brewster's ('The Faculty' (1998), 'The Fast and the Furious' (2001)) is completely contrived flirtiness that never really goes anywhere with any memorable conviction. Yawn. Lin seems to realize what a boring mess this celluloid sleeping pill is - virtually dropping the whole initial premise long after it's clumsily fizzled out - and focuses on turning it into an equally shabby remake of 'Rocky' (1976) during approximately the last half hour. I guess it was cheaper than getting the financing to turn it into another 'Top Gun' (1986). The entire picture is a blatant regurgitation of stuff that you've likely seen done much better many times before, frankly. It's a shame, really. The great-looking cast does make the best of it, continually relying on their natural screen presence to compensate for everything else that's sorely lacking about this one. But, sadly, it's not enough to sustain a paying audience's attention all the way through 'til the closing credits bring sweet, sweet release. Rent it, if you really need to see Franco or Gibson with their shirts off, but you're likely better off steering clear of this aggravatingly wasteful piece of celluloid flotsam.

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American Dreamz
REVIEWED 05/06, © STEPHEN BOURNE
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REVIEW:

Soft stereotypes abound in this sporadically funny big screen comedy from writer/director Paul Weitz ('American Pie' (1999), 'In Good Company' (2004)) that satirizes real life small screen hit 'American Idol', in which opportunistic Padookie County, Ohio karaoke queen Sally Kendoo ('Mandy Moore; 'The Princess Diaries' (2001), 'Chasing Liberty' (2004)) and recently arrived Broadway tune-loving Iraqi Mujeheddin terrorist trainee Omer (wonderfully bumbled through by first timer Sam Golzari) are among the amateur hopefuls chosen by insincere American Dreamz host Martin Tweed (Hugh Grant; 'Mickey Blue Eyes' (1999), 'Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason' (2004)) to sing their way into the hearts of voting viewers worldwide for the chance to reach that ratings-topping show's final live championship round that's co-judged by reclusive, simpleminded US President Joseph Staton (Dennis Quaid; 'Dreamscape' (1984), 'Flight of the Phoenix' (2004)) as a public relations ploy schemed up by hawkish Vice President Walter Sutter (Willem Dafoe; 'The Last Temptation of Christ' (1988), 'Spider-Man 2' (2004)). Ironically, this hundred and eight-minute flick probably could have been a far more consistently hilarious parody if Weitz's screenplay hadn't tried to be so overtly funny and this ensemble cast hadn't played to the laughs in virtually every scene. I do realize that it's supposed to be campy, but the predominant type of humour in 'American Dreamz' is so predictable and bland that a paying audience could walk out of this screening after twenty minutes and easily know how the entire story will pan out for the most part. It's really only during a handful of small moments that sparks of wry goofiness truly tickle your funny bone from the dialogue or from the side line sight gags. Most of what's set up to be outrageously comedic probably could have been phoned in, because the overriding feeling that comes from the screen is that there really isn't a whole of effort invensted into this movie by most of its cast. As though they're basically slumming it on vacation in front of the camera for an easy pay cheque as a big joke pulled on Weitz and the studio, until another real acting job come through. However, the most disappointing aspect of this picture is that it quickly loses momentum that it never fully regains, once all of the primary characters have been established, never really bothering to elaborate upon their individual quirks within the framework of Weitz's script with any memorably hilarious results. The film simply turns into a pastiche of 'American Idol' style clips showcasing Moore's singing ability and Golzari's lack thereof, lazily cobbled together with a few behind the scenes skits that don't go anywhere. So much of what you sit through is empty, unnecessary filler. The fact that supporting actor Tony Yalda ends up stealing the show by delivering a good portion of the funny stuff later on, playing yet another stereotype as Omer's Americanized and dramatically Gay cousin Iqbal, pretty well proves that this movie was likely a panicked struggle to put together once the premise was green lighted. Check it out as a measurably entertaining, second or third choice rental that you can sit back and switch off above the neck with for a few sparse laughs, but really only if you're a big fan of 'American Idol' to begin with and you don't really expect too much during the second half.

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Akeelah and the Bee
REVIEWED 05/06, © STEPHEN BOURNE
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REVIEW:

Hopelessly delinquent eleven year-old Crenshaw Middle School Grade seven student Akeelah Anderson (Keke Palmer; 'Barbershop 2: Back in Business' (2004), 'Madea's Family Reunion' (2006)) soon realizes that her appetite for words spells a chance for her to win the famed Scripps National Spelling Bee held in Washington, D.C., after reclusive University professor Dr. Joshua Larabee (Laurence Fishburne; 'The Cotton Club' (1984), 'The Matrix Revolutions' (2003)) takes on the challenge of coaching her to the Regional Championship, in this successfully dramatic film from writer/director Doug Atchison ('The Pornographer' (1999)).

It's pretty well a foregone conclusion that this hundred and thirteen-minute inaugural co-production from Starbucks Entertainment will likely be the darling of most film critics and reviewers. It's about a disenfranchised, precocious kid who finds self-esteem and new friends and general acceptance by broadening her vocabulary - which I suspect is probably the life story of more than a couple of journalistic cinephiles. It's just a theory, though. Critics also possibly drink a lot of coffee, designer blend or not. However, what's surprising about 'Akeelah and the Bee' is that it's actually a fairly entertaining flick over-all. Yes, it's a heart string tugger. Sure, there's a definite After School Special small screen feel to Atchison's screenplay throughout, making it strongly apparent that it's intended for the parents of young teens who might shun this one because of the subject matter and lack of exploding car chases. I'm kidding, this one will likely appeal to the entire family - particularly girls, as the first film of the year that doesn't feel like it patronizes kids - despite a few soft choice words of what Larabee calls "ghetto talk" that are tossed into the mix. At the same time, it tends to be a bit familiar, thanks in small parts to the recent Richard Gere/Juliette Binoche drama 'Bee Season' (2005) and the crowd pleasing Oscar nominated documentary 'Spellbound' (2002), but it also plays out like a non-musical, contemporary retelling of 'My Fair Lady' (1964) at times. Even the prerequisite inspirational moment is lifted, in this case citing the same "Our Deepest Fear..." quote by Marianne Williamson (which you can read through her bio page at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marianne_Williamson) used in 'Coach Carter' (2005). Frankly, there really aren't a whole lot of fresh surprises in this one, but it's still a great movie because it clips along at an impressive pace, delivers on cue, and benefits from this superb cast. Palmer's performance is astounding, easily fleshing out her vaguely Eliza Doolittle-like character enough for a paying audience to empathize with and have reason to care about what happens to Akeelah. Her rattling off letters that spell out exceptionally arcane and erudite words to the beat of her hand unconsciously tapping her leg is a nice touch that's cleverly focused on as pressures close in and the competition becomes more fierce. Some of the best scenes are when she's playing opposite to Fishburn, who manages to subdue his trademark sinister aura in order to show a softer and vulnerable side that helps you forget his past roles. Top marks also go to Angela Bassett ('Boyz n the Hood' (1991), 'Mr. 3000' (2004)) as Anderson's overbearing mother, and to feature first timer J.R. Villarreal playing Akeelah's unassumingly supportive twelve year-old new friend Javier Mendez. Good stuff. Considering the relentless, wordsmith-like advertising campaign launched by Starbucks on their cup sleeves, 'Akeelah and the Bee' will likely be made available for sale at its coffee shops in due time, but this family friendly flick is more a worthwhile rental for the impressive acting than anything else.

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Art School Confidential
REVIEWED 05/06, © STEPHEN BOURNE
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REVIEW:

Angst-riddled budding suburban New York teenaged talent Jerome Platz (Max Minghella; 'Syriana' (2005), 'Bee Season' (2005)) yearns to become the greatest artist of the Twentieth Century in this mildly enjoyable and yet surprisingly bland offbeat romantic comedy from director Terry Zwigoff ('Crumb' (1994), 'Bad Santa' (2003)) and adapted from screenwriter Daniel Clowes' 1991 four-page illustrated vignette featured in issue seven of his acclaimed comic book series Eightball, where Jerome enters his first year at Manhattan's Strathmore Art College and immediately falls into unrequited love with Audrey Baumgartner (Sophia Myles; 'Underworld' (2003), 'Tristan & Isolde' (2006)), one his Life Drawing class' models, while that school of stereotypical creative outcasts is rocked by a series of brutal campus murders.

Slow, melancholic and fairly rough around the edges, 'Art School Confidential' is really a small Art House picture geared towards artists who might find it enjoyable to see aspects of themselves on the big screen. The Art World from a scholastic vantage is satirized here, but most of the few laughs do feel like inside jokes over-all and there's not a whole lot offered that hasn't previously been done better for a wider, unindoctrinated audience to tap into. Sadly, it might have actually benefited from a narrative, in order to make the transition from comic book page to theatre screen more effective. Much of the wildly esoteric dialogue regarding the process versus the business of drawing and painting for a living is absolutely on target and wonderfully presented throughout, and it's fun watching the various dynamics that play out amongst the faculty led by wryly dead pan Professor Sandy Sandiford (John Malkovich; 'The Killing Fields' (1984), 'The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy' (2005)) and his motley brood of students, as well as with the sundry odd ball characters who orbit on the periphery of that scholastic cloister of darlings and wannabes. However, this nudity and expletive-tinged hundred and two-minute effort doesn't quite manage to consistently hold together whenever Zwigoff attempts to move the story along. The main problem is that Minghella isn't given much to work with, and eventually becomes little more than a tourist within his starring role, introducing you to a variety of comparably more interesting human caricatures who effortlessly steal the spotlight. For instance, Angelica Huston ('The Addams Family' (1991), 'The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou' (2004)) has two brief supporting cameos here that draw in a paying audience more completely than what most of the primary players do. Malkovich is absolutely brilliant, radiating coy smugness over his series of triangle paintings in one scene that will undoubtedly ring true with anyone who's been an art student, but it's Jim Broadbent's ('Superman IV: The Quest for Peace' (1987), 'The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe' (2005)) depiction of disillusioned alumnus drunkard Jimmy as Platz's grizzled and tormented mentor Jimmy that really makes this movie worth a look. It's not enough to warrant more than a rental, because so much of this flick does tend to drag you through heaps of flat humour and dismally contrived circumstances that lead no-where, but Broadbent insightfully captures the true essence of glorious failure here. Clearly, if Clowes' script had lifted everything else to that level, 'Art School Confidential' could have reached its obvious potential as a delightfully satisfying piece of movie making. Make this one a second or third choice rental, if you're a fan of Malkovich or Broadbent, or can't get enough of Steve Buschemi (who makes a rather noisy appearance as local café owner Broadway Bob), but it doesn't have a lot going for it beyond being an insightful and mildly amusing curiosity for artists and Art students.

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Ask the Dust
REVIEWED 07/06, © STEPHEN BOURNE
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REVIEW:

Los Angeles in the late 1930's was as much a sanctuary for the rich on a pilgrimage seeking its promised recuperative effects in their dying days as it was a magnet for the poor that poured into that dusty city on a crusade to live a promised dream of easy fame and fortune, and yet chronically struggling Colorado-born writer Arturo Bandini (Colin Farrell; 'The Recruit' (2003), 'The New World' (2005)) always managed to survive somewhere in the lower middle of that social divide there, while naively relying on little more than street wise youthful arrogance and the few stipend cheques tossed his way for the meager stories that a museless Bandini almost accidentally pounded out to the finish on his weary Underwood - until Arturo's dark eyes met those of feisty ex-patriot Mexican waitress Camilla "Lombard" Lopez (Salma Hayek; 'Desperado' (1995), 'After the Sunset' (2004)) - in this surprisingly thin adaptation from Oscar winning writer turned director Robert Towne ('Tequila Sunrise' (1988), 'Without Limits' (1998)) that's based on John Fante's (1909-1983) acclaimed classic 1939 novel and clearly intended for a mature audience, where these strong willed dreamers are relentlessly consumed by carnal passions bridled by secret self destructive forces that constantly threaten to rip their impoverished lives apart.

'Ask the Dust' is obviously the type of small, vaguely independent movie afforded a decent budget that actors of all stripes likely dream of sinking their teeth into until every last bit of the screenplay's marrow comes to life on the big screen. These are juicy roles, and both Farrell and Hayek absolutely work up enough frenetic energy to successfully electrify their individual characters throughout. Seeing Farrell's uncanny - albeit swarthy - resemblance to a young Alan Ladd playing opposite Hayek's sumptuously eerie similarities to bygone starlet Jane Russell is an incredible delight. It's a visually stunning film, thanks in large part to Art Directors Tom Hannam and Richard L. Johnson painstakingly poring over virtually every minute detail that's taken from that era in order to get it as perfect as humanly possible. It's just a shame about cinematographer Caleb Deschanel's inconsistently involved filtered lens, that tends to push you away and miss a lot, rather than masterfully pull you in. However, apart from this crew deftly capturing the Period and these co-stars managing to embellish upon their costuming with whatever they naturally brought to the set each morning, this R-rated hundred and seventeen-minute drama really doesn't have a whole lot more to offer a paying audience. The wealth of requisite nuance simply isn't there. The story is about internal conflicts that uncontrollably stab out at the wrong times, wounding everyone in the process, and yet Towne's screenplay is virtually non-existent beyond adapting Fante's original dialogue, overwhelmingly failing to give its otherwise proven actors specifically important cues for how they should be non-verbally interacting throughout. The book is famous for completely immersing the reader into this world. In that respect, 'Ask the Dust' feels like a beautifully designed dress rehearsal reel of an Off Broadway stock performance where the cast just met five minutes before the camera was switched on from its back row pinnings. The process of production betrays the performances. There's hardly any tangible chemistry that's capture while Bandini and Lopez slam dance to their steady stream of prickly flirtations and oftentimes brutal physical collisions. Perhaps they scared Deschanel into hiding. Yes, the banter is captivating and the stylish pacing eventually works, once this feature reaches momentum half way through and you get used to Towne's rather lazy pockets of dead air that unnecessarily litter this screening. Even having to once again pay witness to Farrell's and Hayek's curious eagerness to have their various naughty bits projected a thousand times bigger than any sane person needs to see actually fits well within the context of their characters' awkwardly steamy affair. Idina Menzel ('The Tollbooth' (2004), 'Rent' (2005)) also does a wonderful job playing Bandini's crazily amorous other woman Vera Rivkin, and Donald Sutherland's ('Kelly's Heroes' (1970), 'Pride & Prejudice' (2005)) couple of cameo scenes as Arturo's eccentric neighbour Hellfrick lends a certain enjoyably haggard finesse to the entire production. By all accounts, this should have been a memorably great adult flick. Instead, 'Ask the Dust' mercilessly sabotages itself as a series of measurably realized depictions miserably trapped in an amateurishly boring movie. That truly is a shame. Check it out as a third choice rental if you're a huge fan of anyone from this cast, but 'Ask the Dust' is so poorly cobbled together without any vision beyond the staging that it's hardly worthy of consideration when compared to what these actors have accomplished elsewhere.

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All the King's Men
REVIEWED 09/06, © STEPHEN BOURNE
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REVIEW:

Discredited former Mason City church treasurer turned opportunistic door-to-door Fuller Brush salesman Willie Stark (Sean Penn; 'Colors' (1988), 'The Interpreter' (2005)) is curiously enticed to run for U.S. Governor of Louisiana to unwittingly split the vote in favour of the incumbent, soon becoming a silver tongued dark horse candidate whose unorthodox Socialist politics gain rising support amongst common "Hick" folk while raising the hackles of that State's entitled elite and its powerful oil and electricity companies, in this visually luxurious yet surprisingly empty remake from writer/director Steven Zaillian ('Searching for Bobby Fischer' (1993), 'A Civil Action' (1998)) of the 1949 three-time Oscar winner also based on Robert Penn Warren's (1905-1989) Pulitzer Prize-winning 1946 novel that apparently fictionalized the tumultuous political life of Southern Senator Huey Pierce Long, Jr. (1893-1935), showing how Willie's landslide election into office and his plans for the Presidency further corrupt his already dubious true nature when pay rolled ex-Chronicle reporter Jack Burden (Jude Law; 'Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil' (1997), 'Closer' (2004)) is dispatched to dig up dirt on retired Judge Irwin (Anthony Hopkins; 'The Lion in Winter' (1968), 'Proof' (2005)), Burden's beloved stepfather and Stark's leading outspoken critic in a Senate bid to see Willie slandered, indicted and destroyed.

This one sure looked like a heavy weight contender for the up-coming Academy Awards, but 'All the King's Men' is pretty well a nothing movie that's decorated with top notch props all beautifully lit and then captured by cinematographer Pawel Edelman's gold-tinted lens. Virtually every scene has a gorgeous richness to it that dramatically punctuates a lot of what transpires throughout, even if what transpires isn't anything affable enough or particularly enjoyable. It's a good looking Period flick. The work from this main cast that also includes Patricia Clarkson ('The Untouchables' (1987), 'Good Night, and Good Luck.' (2005)), James Gandolfini ('Get Shorty' (1995), 'Surviving Christmas' (2004)), Kate Winslet ('Titanic' (1997), 'Finding Neverland' (2004)) and Mark Ruffalo ('In the Cut' (2003), 'Rumor Has It...' (2005)) is fairly impressive over-all as well. Unfortunately, not many of the primary characters seem to realize that they're all in the same movie here. Zaillian's screenplay is meandering and befuddling, starting in the middle in order to flash back to the beginning, five years earlier, and then cutting into the second half with another series of even earlier flash backs - regarding the secret long time love affair that never went anywhere, between Burden and Winslet's character, Anne Stanton - that's vaguely made relevant to the main plot line when they eventually intersect. The script and Wayne Wahrman's editing style betray this film and this cast by failing to be straight forward enough so that you can clearly see what's really going on under the surface. As Stark, Penn pretty well carries this effort by attempting to conjure up the ghost of Hollywood legend Spencer Tracy during his early heyday, drawling some truly rousing speeches while overtly flailing his arms around like a mad conductor in love with every sound or noise huffing from his steadily inflating narcissism. Stark remains an enigmatic figure bordering on bipolar disorder, when everything about him should have been made completely transparent from beginning to closing credits. Unfortunately, Penn's performance feels contrived when taken in its entirety, and doesn't work smoothly enough for a paying audience to see the transitional nuances of Willie's personality as he becomes more power hungry and corrupt. An unnecessary conflict builds between you and what's happening here not letting you in on the secrets. Admittedly, I've never read the book nor seen the original film, but it seems to me as though this hundred and twenty-minute feature is more of an experiment created for the amusement of a director incapable of sharing the joy. The impression is that there's supposed to be some sort of enormous heart break and crushing disillusionment engulfing Burden as he slowly realizes how nasty Stark has become, but Law barely shows much deeply felt emotion at all here. His depiction of Burden is far too intellectualized and suppressed to be effective as essentially the tour guide who unwittingly gets swept into the murky tumult of this piece, because there's no reason given to care about him while Penn thunders across the big screen in search of tangible motivation to match his oftentimes bombastic theatrics. Except for Clarkson, the other supporting players probably could have just as easily phoned in their contributions without much being lost, where Clarkson's deftly realized effort as Willie's bluntly savvy political handler Sadie Burke is the only consistently captivating aspect of this movie. I'm normally always wrong about predicting award winners, but if 'All the King's Men' does happen to win anything, she and how it all looks so impressively lush should be all that this one probably deserves to be noticed for, frankly. Everything else is just misguided noise and coy silence, all signifying nothing. I'm not even convinced that diehard Sean Penn fans will get their money's worth out of this disappointing, star studded dud.

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Alpha Dog
REVIEWED 01/07, © STEPHEN BOURNE
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REVIEW:

Bad blood over a failed drug deal that leaves volatile small time California pusher Jake Mazursky (Ben Foster; 'Hostage' (2005), 'X-Men: The Last Stand' (2006)) twenty-five hundred dollars in debt to calculating local supplier Johnny Truelove (Emile Hirsch; 'The Girl Next Door' (2004), 'Lords of Dogtown' (2005)) escalates past the point of no return when fate puts Jake's younger fifteen year-old brother Zack (Anton Yelchin; 'Along Came a Spider' (2001), 'House of D' (2004)) in the wrong place just as Johnny and pothead crony Frankie Ballenbacher (Justin Timberlake; 'Edison' (2005), 'Shrek the Third' (2007)) are passing by, in writer/director Nick Cassavetes' ('She's So Lovely' (1997), 'The Notebook' (2004)) surprisingly mediocre film inspired by the true events surrounding the August 12, 2000 murder of teenager Nicholas Markowitz, reportedly shot and left in a shallow grave by men working for Jesse James Hollywood, a wealthy California drug dealer turned FBI fugitive arrested and extradited back to the US from Brazil in 2005.

Unfortunately, the primary problem with this hundred and eighteen-minute feature is that none of the characters inhabiting this world of drugs, guns and Gangsta bravado are particularly compelling enough for a paying audience to care about what they do from beginning to closing credits. And, even though Cassavetes does attempt to evoke a sense that what you're watching at least feel like realistic events - complete with the locations, dates and times superimposed at supposedly key moments throughout - there's no real way of knowing exactly how much of the screenplay is a reenactment or a complete fabrication. I'd read that the prosecuting District Attorney involved with Hollywood's case actually served as an unpaid consultant for this effort, but how unbiased was his input towards ensuring the script contained more absolute truths than wishful supposition and dramatic license? Time will tell, I guess. Some of the players are shown in interviews, yet all of the names related to the actual crime that are apparently depicted here have been changed. If it's the truth, why change anything? So, forget about considering this picture as a biopic. Really all that you can do is decide if it's worth the price of admission as a piece of contemporary entertainment. It isn't. It doesn't work. Most of what happens simply doesn't make any sense. And, much of what transpires on the screen is so poorly performed that it's like you're watching the rehearsal tapes for the movie that's yet to be fleshed out and polished up. At one point, after Truelove has Mazursky fired as revenge for trying to drown him in a swimming pool, these two enraged hooligans are armed and standing within range but do nothing more than nastily glare at each other. yawn. In another scene, after Zack has been beaten up and dragged across town by his captors, you see him laughing and playing video games with them like they're all the best of friends. He just wants to hang out, bruised and duct taped, with those thugs, like a vacation from his parents who have discovered a bong in his bedroom, because clearly that makes sense, right? The sheer lack of basic understanding about human nature here is flabbergasting - even if you want to make an arguement for Stockholm syndrome, Zack's actions aren't portrayed as being believable. While the entire cast definitely does attempt to inhabit their roles to the best of their individual abilities, their obvious enthusiasm in wanting to get it right is made overwhelmingly pointless, due to Cassavetes' disinterest in using any of these actors as anything more than human finger puppets for a lazy and disjointed mess that only vaguely resembles a story. Even if you don't know beforehand what happens to Zack, it doesn't seem to matter as much as making sure everyone swears enough and that there's a bit of frontal nudity to keep you from walking out. Avoid this relentlessly meandering, indulgent and exploitative piece of cinematic junk that really doesn't justify its existence in the slightest.

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