Life, uh, finds a way.
Like three movies for the price of one and they're all fucking awesome. For a 1994 ticket price, that's like $2 and change a banger. And, we all probably watched it for free anyway since it's 27 years old. Divide that by the 10 or more time any self-respecting American has watched it since then and we should basically be paying it money.
I wouldn’t even mind that the Academy picks winners based on whatever issue the film’s commenting on if they had something more insightful to say, other than ______ is bad or sad. This isn’t as abhorrent as Two Distant Strangers, but watching them back to back, it’s as clear as ever why these were chosen and it wasn’t the filmmaking. It’s as if they think if they, or all of us, feel miserable for 12 minutes, we’ve somehow done our part in the war against ______. But it doesn’t work like that.
These are my least favorite kind of bad movies--the ones that *seem* like good movies. They think if they get an actor we've heard of and surround him by sage-seeming old guys, a teary-eyed woman, throw in a lifeless color palette, and aggressively-dramatic score, that we'll all *feel* like we're watching a good movie. And then, for good measure, have...everyone...talk...so...slowly...so it seems like they...have...something...important...to...say.
It's a little insulting.
If you strip it down to its plot, this is basically the…