September 28, 2013

Less than an hour into this movie, I walked out.

A word about reviews.  A review is an essay;  an opinion about something.  There is no right or wrong.  Everything is liked by somebody.  Everything is disliked by somebody.  There is no accounting for taste.

I read a review of this movie where the reviewer’s wife walked out forty minutes in.  She asked him if he was leaving, too.  He said he could not because he had to write about it.

Well, yes you can.

Nowhere in the reviewer’s manual does it say you can’t write a review about something you don’t sit all the way through.  When your head starts to ache and your stomach gets queasy because of gratuitous violence and gore, it is time to check out.  I don’t pay ten bucks to be tortured. 

The question which emerges here is how far would you go if your child was kidnapped.  I don’t know how far I would go as a father.  But I do know how far to go as a filmmaker.  Denis Villeneuve does not. 

Hugh Jackman plays the father very well.  Jake Gyllenhaal is less convincing as the detective. 

Whatever thought–provoking questions of morality, loyalty, law–abiding citizenry which might be pondered are ground into the dirt by the ugly boot of overdone sensationalism.

This is a terrible movie.  Zero stars.  Don’t see it.