Think of Julius Avery’s Overlord as a reminder from a major Hollywood studio that Nazis are really bad.
The film makes everyone’s lives nothing but the blank spots in fate’s big book of Mad Libs.
It would certainly make sense to see Paul Greengrass among shoo-ins like Steve McQueen and Alfonso Cuarón.
It works too hard to keep matters on an even, we’re-all-more-alike-than-different keel, which is just one part of its chief problem of forcefully conveying information and intent.
This is hardly an auteur’s movie, and while Garry Ross’s efforts are quite commendable, there’s little that seems to boast a unique directorial stamp.
Robert Schwentke hasn’t make a 9/11-era version of The Parallax View, just an in-flight version of Not Without My Daughter.
Note to E. Elias Merhige: Dude, lighten up!