Suave, lip-reading DA Thatcher Colt plans to get away from the big city for a while. So he and his secretary, Miss Kelly hop on a train for an Upstate NY town called Gilead. They expect a calm oasis, but when a small time circus rolls into town they soon find themselves caught up in a sordid tale of marital infidelity, murder, cruelty to animals, and cannibalism.
At 2:17 a.m., every child in a third-grade class wakes up, leaves their home, and disappears into the darkness—except one. The next day, teacher Justine Gandy discovers that Alex Lily is the only student left, while the rest have vanished without a trace. Did Justine have something to do with it, or is a far more sinister force stalking the town, targeting not just children, but anyone in its path?
This is not a film, it’s a drop tower. A drop tower that you don’t get off of for the vast majority of its 106-minute runtime.
This modern update of the beloved classic swaps Cyrano's signature pronounced nose for achondroplasia, for a different vision that still retains the original's essence.
I hate the idea that animation’s for kids; just because it’s animated doesn’t mean that it’s some silly cartoon and shouldn’t be taken seriously.
In the film adaptation, director Jon M. Chu turns each musical number into a massive show stopper, with grand set pieces and a wealth of diverse dancers. Yet, in this attempt to show reverence for the people of the Washington Heights barrio, Chu, or maybe more specifically those in charge of casting, left out a crucial part of the community, Afro-Latinos.
'An American Werewolf in London' possesses a possible queer reading in the way it envisions a heterosexual romance being undone by the presence of a creature who embodies self-contentment in the face of social alienation.
