What if David Lynch directed a Philip K. Dick scripted Apocalypse Now with Jean-Claude Van Damme instead of Marlon Brando and Scott Adkins instead of Martin Sheen, with a dash of Chronicles of Riddick thrown in for good measure?
It seems like the awards season love for The Fighter a couple years ago is sending him down a more populist, middlebrow avenue, which would be a shame because we already have a Jason Reitman.
When do you welcome a movie into your pantheon of stupendous achievements in cinema? At what point do you reject a movie as complete and utter bullshit?
Daniel Elkin, Jason Sacks and Keith Silva dive into a documentary that offers a glimpse into one of the best Rolling Stones records. Sadly a glimpse may be all it offers.
