I expected “Gun Crazy” to be more dangerous than it is, which is maybe a strange thing to say about a movie built on of guns, sex, robbery, and a general sense of doom.

Spielberg has been saying for years that he wanted to make a film about aliens being real and the cover-up being real and the disclosure being real, and I was prepared to spend two hours in a comfortable seat being a dick about it.

I came to “Shadow” with one read already in my head. This was the apology film.

“Brick” is a high school movie with no interest in remembering high school stuff.

To think… the snow was an accident.

The Zhang Yimou I know, the Zhang of Ju Dou and Raise the Red Lantern, is a stylist. Color is a primary language. Composition is buried in his politics. The red lanterns in front of a closed gate carry more argument than dialogue. I came to To Live expecting that Zhang. He didn’t show.

“Cam” is a snake eating itself. It’s also one of the bravest American horror movies of the last decade and nobody’s allowed to watch it anymore because Netflix decided it didn’t need to be in the library. We shall make of this what we will.

I went into this expecting to be terrified and I came out of it hopeful and that’s the whole twist of the movie, I think.

I have not been this bored by a movie moving this fast in a long time.

“Resurrection” is a film I respect more than I enjoyed, which is a frustrating place to leave an Ellen Burstyn movie.