Apocalypto finds Gibson working in the same nyuk-nyuk vein that’s sustained him for over 25 years, proving that, if nothing else, the guy still has retained his sense of humor.
The Rosenbaum riff you cited is hysterical on many fronts, first of all because it reveals, once again, that nothing gets J. Ro rolling like an opportunity to shovel dung onto a fresh corpse.
The Fountain, perhaps the trippiest, most psychotropic, big-budget extravaganza since the Johnson administration, is both impossible to dismiss outright and, unfortunately, equally difficult to take seriously.
The funny thing about this Bond series is that they’re always trend-chasing and they’re typically a year or two too late.
Alright, the first column seems to have gone fairly well. An observation though: not enough conflict. We’re in agreement on far too much.
What rankles me the most is the received wisdom that somehow Flags of Our Fathers has too broad of a canvas for Eastwood and thus is outside his particular wheelhouse.