The Amy Schumer comedy is all about hating who you are unless you’re gorgeous.
Christopher Lawrence
Christopher Lawrence is the movie critic for the Las Vegas Review-Journal.
clawrence@reviewjournal.com … @life_onthecouch on Twitter. 702-380-4567
I grew up playing “Rampage.”
I don’t pretend to know what’s inside Wes Anderson’s head.
If a mosquito bit Steven Spielberg around the time he was making “Jurassic Park,” then became trapped in amber until some nut with more money than forethought extracted the DNA from it and cloned an early ’90s version of Spielberg, well, that’s the guy I could see directing “Ready Player One.”
If you’re willing to overlook “King Arthur: Legend of the Sword” — as most moviegoers did — Charlie Hunnam is growing into one of the savviest actors in Hollywood.
Given everything that’s transpired over the past year, there’s never been a better time to be in the women’s film festival business.
If I’d been alive in ancient times, I like to think I’d have had the entrepreneurial gumption to start a burial site security firm.
If Zak Bagans were a character in a horror movie, you’d never stop screaming at him.
If you see only one movie this year after taking peyote, make it “A Wrinkle in Time.”
Amid all the awful news out of Hollywood in recent months, host Jimmy Kimmel has his work cut out for him in trying to create a fun atmosphere at the 90th Oscars.
Students receive training in psychological manipulation and seduction.
Popularity and acclaim are two very different metrics. If they weren’t, McDonald’s would be the best restaurant on the planet.
You know that comedy technique where writers and directors take a joke that’s sort of funny, let it linger until it becomes just mildly amusing, step back while it festers so that it becomes painfully awkward and loses every bit of its appeal before they stretch it so far that it ends up being hilarious?
Feel like you’ve missed most of the nine films nominated for best picture at next weekend’s Oscars? That’s understandable, unless you’ve had plenty of time on your hands since Thanksgiving.
If you’re having trouble relating to the jubilation surrounding this weekend’s release of “Black Panther” — the first major comic book movie starring a predominantly black cast — imagine for a moment that we weren’t living in an era in which every couple of months produced a superhero blockbuster starring a white guy named Chris.