It’s a shootout at 2 PM.
It would have been conducted at high noon, but, frankly, everyone was drunk and still passed out cold then.
Following a merry, though sometimes morose, band of broken-down stuntmen who fill their days by staging Wild West shows to increasingly-smaller crowds, this Spanish lark expertly mixes humor with occasional pathos.
The gunfighters and brawlers in camp used to work on Spaghetti Western films, until Hollywood pulled up stakes and went back home.
Now, they pass the time by crashing through roofs for a few bucks, and a few more drinks.
Hey, it’s a living.
Pedal through the metal.
This is usually considered one of Quentin Tarantino’s lesser efforts, yet it has a real zing and is a great showcase for Zoë Bell.
She and her friends find themselves menaced by a leering, homicidal Kurt Russell, with the second half of the film being a hopped-up death metal showdown on the back roads of America.
Stuffed full of testosterone (and his own self-importance), Stuntman Mike picks the wrong woman to terrorize this time, however.
Bell, riding the hood of a madly-speeding Dodge Challenger, is an avenging angel unleashed, and there’s a (brutal) showdown a’coming.
I love it when an entire movie theater gets mad.
Especially if I could see it coming from the moment the lights went down.
Marketed as a Fast and Furious ripoff, more brain-dead car porn, this moody-beyond-reason flick is the opposite of what most ticket buyers expected.
Yes, Ryan Gosling plays a slick-driving getaway man, but he’s a troubled, hyper-violent car jockey, a man with few morals, but a very strict personal code.
That gets him in trouble with low-life mobsters as the film spirals to a bleak finale.
At the end, the crowd was pissed. Me, I was thrilled.