Gritty, controversial but hollow: 4/10
937693
It's hard to imagine how this film gained its notorious status(especially in the UK). It is poorly shot(reflecting its miniscule budget) and is  really no more violent than any other horror film. True, when the  disgruntled artist Reno(played by first-time director Abel Ferrara) first  goes on a rampage armed with a drill and 'porto-pak', the film does manage  to touch a raw nerve, but soon it descends to laboriously-paced repetition  and struggles to hold attention.
Will be remembered as the debut feature  of director Ferrara, who has since never been afraid to court controversy  with films like Ms. 45 and Bad Lieutenant; and probably as one of the films  that sparked off the 'Video Nasty' hysteria in the UK in the 1980's; but  for little else.
3280445
A quarter of the way through watching River's Edge, I was having trouble putting my finger on the right adjective for the film or the way it was making me feel. "Discomforting/uncomfortable", "appalling/appalled", "disturbing/disturbed" all floated around in my head but were insufficient to describe the sense I had of a horrific...absence of something. I mentioned this to the friend who had been responsible for our movie choice of the evening, and he summed it up: "it's a negative image of the good". That was it. Or to put it in the words that came to mind shortly thereafter, as two degenerate 12-year-olds shoot crabs in a bucket for mild entertainment, "All wrong." Everything--everything--was just all wrong.

At first, this might seem appropriate, even inevitable, given the film's subject matter. River's Edge begins with a dead body; Samson, a high school Neanderthal pothead played convincingly by Daniel Roebuck, has killed a female classmate of his--for essentially no reason--and then tells his friends about the crime. The rest of the film follows the aftermath as hyperbolic Layne (Crispin Glover) makes it his (and their) mission to protect Samson, while Matt (Keanu Reves) and Clarissa (Ione Skye Leitch) act indecisively on a vague discomfort with this course of action.

But few films dealing with murder intentionally omit any internal viewpoint of morality or justice in the way that River's Edge does, and this is what makes it compelling and thought-provoking as well as deeply unsettling. On the back of the box, Matt is described as "struggling with guilt" over the decision not to turn Samson in, and indeed he does go to the police fairly early in the plot. Ah-ha, you might say, here is our standard of judgment. But numerous clues throughout undermine Matt's claim to moral objectivity, any strong sense of rightness that could shed light on the other characters' nihilistic apathy and dissoluteness.

Indeed the lack of deep feeling is a running theme throughout the film. Several of the adults accuse the kids of the crime of apathy--and yet we and they are presented with no appropriate example of feeling, no appropriate object for it. Clarissa's high school teacher idealizes the accomplishments of his generation ("We stopped a war, man"), Feck--the kids' drug dealer--accuses Samson of not loving the girl he murdered...like Feck had loved the woman he had killed many years ago. Every passion in the film, it seems, is misdirected, whether toward the trivial (more than once is rage expressed over beer) or the perverse. Samson's explanation of his crime--that he did it to "show everyone who's boss", that it made him feel "alive"--is chilling enough to shake the beliefs of the most devout Nietzschean. All in all, an exceptional film and well worth watching.
1768764
For starters: I really don't usually like heavy-handed Christian allegory, and this is pretty heavy-handed Christian allegory. If you like that kind of thing, you may have better success with this read than I did. For me, there wasn't enough good in this novel to recommend it much - but it wasn't the worst I've ever read in the genre.

Davis's prose is...okay. The book has been edited somewhat better than many other self-published works, but I still found myself wincing at a few typos. His English usage and sentence and paragraph structure are usually adequate, but only adequate. I was pretty put-off by the feel of the setting; this book can't decide whether it's trying to be epic or homey. For example, most of the characters are named in a pan-20th-century-American or British style - names like Justin, Megan, Kira, Russell, Conroy. Places are named Bentleigh, Sutton, et cetera. This didn't internally jibe with other names - characters named Dug, Anult, Treece; places called Casilda and Marheon. It felt like kids playing with action figures and dolls from wildly disparate play sets. I was also off-put by the laborious explanations of their local Olympic-style games, the laborious (but somehow simplistic?) explanations of the multiple characters' internal feelings and motivations, and the information that was somehow missing despite the book's overlong page count. (Sometimes apparent months would pass by without explanation; after a traumatic event displaced people entirely, we have refugees eating last year's potatoes - from what garden? Huh, they must have been in that cabin longer than I knew; while their captors drink ale, from what grain, brewed in what time frame, I do not know.) And, as other reviewers have noted, there were too many central characters to connect with or keep track of. I found myself frequently bored and tempted to skim sections.

What I DID like was Davis's handling of supernatural events. I really appreciated that the angelic beings were never shown as actually afraid of the fallen angelic beings. When an evil character seeks an audience with the God-figure, he is allowed to approach and nobody seems concerned that he'll be able to do any mischief of his own volition. And the fight scenes between supernatural forces were the only parts of the book that I actually enjoyed, perhaps because there, Davis went more fully epic (though in still a somewhat cartoonish style) and there wasn't the continual style-jarring I experienced in the rest of the book.

I also was tickled pink by what I believe was the physical manifestation of the Ten Commandments/The Law - pretty sure that's what Durwin and Baldwin were based on.

In my opinion, this book could *possibly* be re-written into something I would enjoy reading. But as it stands, I don't really like it. It is overall an awkward book that obscures what good there is in it. It was better than L.B.Graham's "Beyond the Summerland", which I found painfully poorly written. And as I noted at first, folks who like this genre to begin with may find more to recommend it than I did.

Note: I received a copy for free in exchange for my honest review.
763249
Despite its fascinating premise, I didn't think 'Gaspipe' was as good as it could have been. Carlo's family knew Casso personally, so in principle this should have been a True Crime classic; with Carlo gaining access to all manner of secret personal and professional details from the man himself. But unfortunately, 'Gaspipe' doesn't really live up to expectations.

Firstly, there is the inevitable problem of trying to paint a sympathetic portrait of someone who is, in effect, a psychopathic killer, to the point of almost semi-justifying his crimes. As always, most of the blame is pushed onto others: disloyal thugs, corrupt cops, sneaky federal agents, heartless prosecuters (they want to take him away from his wife and family and put him in jail! How unreasonable of them!). It doesn't help that Carlo tries to have it both ways: he defends Casso's violence by claiming (in effect) "That was just his way" while at the same time trying to portray him as a tender, loving husband and father. It's a very idealised portrait of Casso, whereas a Warts-And-All approach would have been much more informative and believable, as well as being a more interesting read.

Secondly, Carlo is not that good a writer, and often lapses into lazy passages and repetitiveness. Parts of the book are well-written and detailed, such as the section dealing with the attempt on Casso's life and the subsequent attacks on Gotti. But at other times, Carlo seems to just repaste the same "Capo A from Family B Hired C and D to kill E. They waited outside his house and shot him in the head as he got out of his car" block text over and over again. This gives parts of the book an almost academic feel: "A shot B, so C shot D, but D survived and ordered E to shoot F, meaning G shot....". This dry style means we can't always see the big picture: exactly who was ordering what and why.

Still, the subject matter itself is interesting enough to make up for these flaws. Despite its sympathetic treatment of its subject, we do gain an insight into Casso's twisted morality. Despite ordering and comitting so many murders, and having himself turned informer, Casso still sees himself as an Honourable man who respects tradition, his family, and his Family. He only killed those who (by his reasoning) deserved it; informers, disrespectful thugs, killers, rapists. And in any case "It's just business, nothing personal", right? It's a very warped viewpoint, but at least we can appreciate how Casso justifies such brutality to himself.

A pretty good read, but it's hard not to wish Carlo did a better job considering what he had at his disposal.
3099088
"The Spare Wife" is a chronicle of NYC A-listers.  All the women are rich, mostly beautiful and generally bored and bitchy.  Their men are also well-heeled, often idle and generally without virtue and honor.  The novel's heroine is socialite Ponce Morris, who is portrayed as an exception to the women's stereotype.  She is rich and beautiful, to be sure, but the lady is a tramp.  She doesn't have time for people and things that she hates.

This formula is familiar and would have worked a whole lot better for me in this book if author Alex Witchel had given the story a much sharper edge.  But this isn't "Bonfire of the Vanities" with its whipsaw extremes of character and behavior and nasty consequences.  In "The Spare Wife,"  the characters seem pushed toward the mushy center of behavior and the concept of "fierceness" is not present.  Even the author's heroine, Ponce, who is presented as the paragon of independent spirit and unfailing kindness through most of the story, becomes less unique and kind in her theoretical triumph in one of the last chapters of the book.  At the other end of the character spectrum, the story's villainess--young, beautiful and sneaky, Babette, is punished in the end by "having" to marry a handsome, megarich "older" man.  This is punishment that is hard to see as justice.
Author Witchel is a decent writer and delivers some witty zingers in the book's dialogue, but on the whole,  "The Spare Wife" is froth without the guilty pleasure of whipped cream, from beginning to end.
85929
Chuck Palahniuk has long since battled the sway of tricky writing infused with gimmicky story-telling devices that hamper what is otherwise spot-on social criticism. Indeed, his recent outings Snuff and Pygmy are essentially painfully-constructed plot devices, with very little in the way of originality. Pure style over substance. Other earlier works, such as Diary (a epistolary coma account) succumbed to this same tactic of attempting to garner support from readers simply searching for the next avant-garde, easily digestible...well, Rant. The book Rant, while it is an oral biography comprised of about twenty or so POV's, manages to provide an interesting story along with the structural tomfoolery.
  The story centers on Rant Casey, a small-town freak boy who gets his kicks shoving his hands into spider holes to intentionally get infected with venom. We watch Rant grow up, terrorizing his neighborhood and possibly committing crimes as serious as murder. Apart from the gruesome goings-on, the multiple narrator scheme works to keep things interesting. Consistently flopping back and forth between unreliable people, we as readers are left wondering who is giving us the straight truth- if anyone is at all.
  Aside from the fascination with poison-secreting creatures, Rant develops other talents as well. He can, for example, tell what a woman ate for breakfast by going down on her. This and other animal abilities bring him into the national forefront; not to mention he incites a plague of rabies, the victims of which Palahniuk delights in calling "werewolves." There are several scenes of bloody mayhem during this outbreak that are delivered with wit and come off as pretty amusing. As does the emerging plot of midnight car crashes resulting in some very strange, Vonnegut-on-meth plot developments.
  This is a bloody, unsettling ride with one of the most graphic, undeniably warped rape scenes I've ever encountered in mainstream literature. There are disaffected characters intrigued by the idea of transcending their futile existences, often by the most extreme means possible. There is humor, but only of the darkest ilk. The book is, in other words, quintessential Palahniuk. While it may be lighter on social commentary than say Survivor or the indelible Fight Club, it still packs an emotional wallop, in some sense aided by its kaleidoscopic delivery. For those thrill-seekers jaded perhaps by trudging through one of Palahniuk's recent aforementioned travesties, this one might just keep you in his briny, blood-scarred boat a little longer, clinging to the pages and hoping not to capsize.
4418689
If you're wanting to learn the lowdown on the evil Johnston Gang and their victims, then you're in the wrong place. Mr. Mowday offers no soul to his account, such as bringing the real life characters to life, spinning instead a blowhard valentine to the various Law Enforcement, FBI, and attorneys involved in the case. He paints them as saintly, unflawed American heroes, (demonized or simplified by movies in Mowday's view), the true force that brought down the infamous Johnston gang, while offering an obviously skewed portrait of Bruce Johnston Jr., the gang leader's son, placing him in a broad, negative light. Also untapped by Mowday is the FBI's and various official's failure to provide proper protection and supervision of Bruce Jr. and his teen girlfriend Robin Miller, whose murder came as a direct result. Turning against his father and his uncles was a deadly choice, regardless of his vengeful motivations, and Law Enforcement's attempt to protect their witness seems relatively inept compared the iron hand they brought down on the gang AFTER Robin Miller and the others were slain.

Now I'm not trying to undermine the efforts of those who helped put the Johnston gang away, but let's be honest here -- they are NOT the real story here. The real story is Bruce Jr., his girlfriend, the kiddie gang formed by Jr. and his friends, (the murder victims), and like it or not, the villanous Johnston gang members themselves. Mowday blasts "At Close Range," the 1986 film starring Sean Penn for not sticking entirely to the facts, but honestly, who cares! In his zeal to present the facts in the broadest way possible, in black and white, and without the slightest bit of objectivity, Mowday neglects the complexity of his characters, (not that he could have anyway), as well as the ripe, Shakespearean tragedy explored so poetically in the movie, regardless of how closely it stuck to the facts. He even seems to resent the film's attempt to "humanize" the Bruce Jr. character played Penn, as though he should've been portrayed as being bad because he was a thief. You know, 'cause thieves are not interesting. Even though he never killed anyone, and risked his life to protect his girlfriend, none of that matters because he was a thief, and thieves are bad, and bad people are not human. They're also not as interesting as the FBI agents so lovingly stroked by Mowday in this book. (More on that below)

Not to mention the fact that alot of people will want to pursue this book, (myself included), having seen the film and wanting to know more. But readers who wish to jump into the true story will find themselves wanting their money back. I can't see anyone really enjoying this book, unless you have happen to perceive things in the same manner as the author.

Case in point: rather than including never before or rarely seen photos of Bruce Jr., Robin Miller, the kiddie gang, and any other characters not involved with law enforcement, Mowday almost laughably stuffs the middle section with awkwardly posed pictures of various FBI agents, state troopers, state police investigator, and whomever else involved with bringing the gang down. Again, not trying to trivialize their dedication to the case, but Mowday does enough of that on his own by giving each of the dozens and dozens and dozens of officials and agents mentioned in this so-called "book," (maybe more of a Law Enforcement booklet than an actual book), little to no discernability as characters or human beings, not to mention his brazen choice to refer to himself in the 3rd person. The first time I saw his name mentioned, I had to do a double take because it seemed so...unusual. But nevermind that.

Until a better account comes along, I'm sticking to true crime books written by actual authors who are not only objective about their subjects, but ones that know that it's not what it's about, but HOW it's about. How this law enforement hand--, er, pat on the back-job (*cough*) came to be published, I'm not sure. But take it from me: DON'T WASTE YOUR MONEY!
2428840
I do totally understand why people found this movie poetic and engaging.  It's a pathetic, plotless saga of very sad and likely unredeemable lives.  I just didn't get why it was particularly "cohesive."  Where do these people, who appear chronically unemployed, get the money to stay preposterously drunk all the time?  I don't get the acceptance of child abuse.  Sorry.  I'll watch it again, because you all love it.  Seriously, though, nothing for a moment cuts through the gloom, and even in Shakespeare's darkest tragedies, he incorporated some wit and a contrapuntal moment of comic relief.  Drunk people lying unconscious on the pissed out rotting floors of their shacks does not constitute humor, at least in my book.  I'll take another look, I promise.

But days after having some really bad nightmares inspired by the drunk squalid setting, I'm still not convinced it's a good movie.  Metaphors, what metaphors?  Are the beasts representative of an oppressive society that looks down upon alcoholic child abusers?  Is the little girl somehow emblematic of the "human spirit because she sets fire to her miserable shack?"  Is the father the Ulysses of Shrimp?  Does the levee represent the border between "free life" society, and the horrible existence of a clean hospital that tries to save these sick pathetic creatures?  Sorry, I am still trying to find something in here of merit and it's a no go for me.
2349241
Obviously this book is lightweight, but there is a discomfort and tight-lipped quality to the negative reviews that seem to me to be expressions more of the discomfort of engaging with the political nature of this book. Read Kakutani in the nytimes: "...Mr. Gladwell's emphasis on class and accidents of historical timing plays down the role of individual grit and talent to the point where he seems to be sketching a kind of theory of social predestination, determining who gets ahead and who does not..." This book (what Kautani rightly calls a "flimsy selection of colorful anecdotes and stories") should be read, I believe, not as a quality work of non-fiction, but as a document of the political shift in the USA away from the "conservative" reverence of individualism, "grit and talent" of the Regan/Bush years towards the Obama era in which global capitalism is self-destructing and the federal government and our democratic institutions (society) are called on to solve the crisis.

It's interesting that Gladwell who is a "Science" writer here mostly avoids the literature on genes and DNA that was the rage in the 1990s when there were several advances in genetics----instead he walks out into the dangerous waters of "nurture" (not "nature") and attempts to make his case that the structures of society, our positionality and class have huge consequences. But contra Kakutani, he does not discount "grit", as one of his theses is that there is a 10,000 hour rule: Practice something for 10,000 hours (20 hours a week for 10 years) and you will be an expert. Gladwell's point is *not* that hardwork, grit and determination are unimportant: it's that only *some* people have the access to the tools, resources, time and money to log those 10,000 hours.

Of course this will be controversial; it sounds "un-American" (Gladwell is Canadian, oui?) and to what extent our societies should create level playing fields essentially divides the left from the right. It doesn't help, though, that his argument for equality is sketched out so flippantly in this book. That's too bad; I thought this book was going to remind me of the awkward racial insensitivity of "Freakonomics" in which the authors "prove" that inner-city drug dealers in the end don't make that much money at all and are better off taking a minimum-wage job. Instead I was pleasantly surprised to find that Gladwell is an author who is deeply disturbed by the structures in place that prevent advancement and reinforce inequality.

Gladwell even deconstructs his own "bi-racial" antecedents and how their light skin and choice of light-skinned mates may have had something to do with the relative ease in which he grew up. This is quite timely during the age of Obama, where there many conversations over whether the future president is "black" or "African-American" or multi-racial or something new. The election of Obama is obviously an historic event that crystalizes and raises consciousness about the contradictions and struggles of race and class that have been raging in the USA for hundreds of years. This book fits into that context nicely.

It's also a sign of the times that this author who sells millions of copies of books decided to engage with these knotty issues and in the end side with those who want to ameliorate society. It's unfortunate, though, that because these issues are so complex the magazine style of writing and fluffy researching can't do the subject justice and the result is some embarrassing passages. Social inequality is the subject that some of the greatest thinkers such as Rousseau and Marx spent their careers on. If you are interested in this type of philosophy, the philosophy of actually changing the world, then this book is worth a skim to see how the zeitgeist is slowly shifting.
4467112
Kori Woodson steals and sells drugs from the veterinary clinic he works for in order to pay his tuition fees. He's caught and his stepfather, the preacher Clayton, gets him off the charges but sends him to live with Koris brother Brenden in Cedar Ridge. Brenden, and his thug friends, introduce Kori to a life of beating people to steal their drugs before selling the ill-gotten gains further up the criminal chain. Interwoven are the trials of likeable cop Dale who has been partnered with the thoroughly nasty Butch, and the pedophile 'Virge the Perv' who makes pornography with minors.

There is a hard-boiled, unadorned style to the writing that I thought was appropriate to the subject matter. The characters were well drawn. For me, I enjoyed the less violent scenes of character development, particularly between Kori and his brother Brendan, Kori and his burgeoning friendship with Todd, and Dale's thoughts and reminiscences. But there's plenty of carnage for aficionados of gore.

Author Craig Furchtenicht presents some pretty unlikeable protagonists with some fairly unsavory attitudes and prejudices. I agree that politically correct writing can be the death knell of a good story, and if you're writing a tale set in the particular milieu of brutal rednecks, corrupt cops and sexual violence, then your dialogue needs to be true to that setting.

But some of it did make me uncomfortable. For instance, every gay character is presented as a sad sack, sleaze or pedophile. There are no positive examples to counteract this impression, at a time when many now realize that gay people are your uncle, your niece, your baker, your accountant; in other words, most are ordinary, upstanding individuals like the rest of the population.

Similarly, the only representation of blacks is a short scene involving a street gang. When one of Kori and Brendan's mates refers to one of the blacks in direct speech as a monkey, you can accept that this would be the kind of thing to spew from the mouth of an irredeemable thug. But the supposedly impartially positioned narrator also refers to the black guys' 'fit of mindless dancing' in a tired racial stereotype.

While its a mistake to assume an author holds the views of his characters (Furchtenichts writing is too wry and knowing to invite this error) Dimebag Bandits runs a very fine line between authenticity and offensiveness, which I felt it overstepped at times.

That said, it was a mainly well-handled ride for an emerging author to pen, and Furchtenicht should be commended for not being afraid to step into darker territory. The author could have moderated his characters' views and actions, but that would have made for a safe and therefore bland novel, which this certainly isnt.

Nor was it ever predictable, often veering off into unexpected places. I was waiting, though, for the first character we're introduced to, Stacey, to come back into the story, and also to find out what happened to the hapless Carissa. Neither thread is picked up. On the note of Carissa, she and Kori's mother are the only two female characters in a male-dominated story. From a story point of view, it was understandable why this bunch of guys might not attract female company, but perhaps several of the cops could have been women, introducing a much-needed extra dynamic to proceedings.

I very much enjoyed the local color in the book: the description of the farm work, the pickup trucks, the details that might seem humdrum to the author but are exotic to a foreign reader like myself (from Australia). I can see room for Furchtenicht to develop his mise-en-scne in future novels, assuming he revisits the same setting, which hopefully he does.

This review may seem overly critical, but I do want to end by saying that I believe Furchtenicht has a lot of natural talent and when he gets all his elements working together seamlessly (and a few currently missing), he will become a highly entertaining, but also thoughtful, presence on the crime/drama scene. An author to watch.
1561541
Young T.J. (Devin Brochu) and his father, Paul (Rainn Wilson), are still reeling from a family tragedy that has left them both depressed and isolated. They live with T.J.'s grandmother (Piper Laurie) and barely communicate with anyone in the darkened and dismal home. By chance, T.J. crosses paths with Hesher (Joseph Gordon-Levitt), a homeless metalhead who ends up forcing his way into their lives. This movie is about how Hesher's violent, foul-mouthed, seemingly nihilistic influence creates both chaos and peace among the members of this fractured and failing family.

As I watched the film, I hoped and prayed that it would not follow the same path as every other Eccentric Outsider Helps Struggling Group Find Peace And Unity movie that has ever existed from&nbsp;<a data-hook="product-link-linked" class="a-link-normal" href="/Harry-and-the-Hendersons/dp/B000MRNWKG/ref=cm_cr_arp_d_rvw_txt?ie=UTF8">Harry and the Hendersons</a>&nbsp;to&nbsp;<a data-hook="product-link-linked" class="a-link-normal" href="/Captain-Ron/dp/B000065V3P/ref=cm_cr_arp_d_rvw_txt?ie=UTF8">Captain Ron</a>&nbsp;to&nbsp;<a data-hook="product-link-linked" class="a-link-normal" href="/Mary-Poppins/dp/B0060D11OU/ref=cm_cr_arp_d_rvw_txt?ie=UTF8">Mary Poppins</a>&nbsp;... sorry, I'm sure there are more examples, but those are the first three that came to mind. My examples are comedies, and HESHER certainly pretends (in parts) to be a comedy, but this is, in fact, a very dark film, and even the faux-happy ending that is tacked on does little to lighten the grimness that both the script and Hesher seem compelled to force onto the characters.

Unfortunately, although Hesher isn't as cheesy of a guiding/unifying force as a drunken captain or lost Sasquatch or prim-n-proper magical maid, the script fails to put him in a position that is very unique to stories of this ilk. He even has a big speech at the end where The Moral is dutifully imparted (albeit in an amusingly crass and chaotic way) to the family who finally Learns Their Lesson. Hesher's influence is many times baffling and arbitrary, which lead me to believe that this odd little film was going to trod a different path, but in the end, first time writer/director Spenser Susser just couldn't go beyond the basic moral framework that you always find in these films.

In spite of the aggressively dismal script and fairly standard emotional arc, the movie's performances are absolutely seamless. Wilson, Levitt, Laurie, and Portman do incredible work as their characters. They take the mess of the script and find true and meaningful pathos in it. Major props especially go to Brochu, who does a stellar job as the lead character, evincing the kind of depth of emotion you rarely find in child stars these days. Although the story is alienating and depressing and ultimately nothing all that new, there is richness to be found simply in watching these excellent actors inhabit their world, no matter how mundane or glum it may be.
2894809
"Traitor" is one of the many movies about the "war on terrorism" that completely tanked at the box office.  People just didn't want to watch movies about Iraq, Afghanistan, terrorism, rendition, torture - any of it.  Some of those movies were actually pretty good, some were acceptable/OK, and some were just bad movies.  "Traitor" is in the middle.  Not a great flick, but definitely worth at least a rental.

The director had to thread the eye of the needle with a story like this.  How to depict Muslims and Arabs in all their humanity, from good to bad?  This was a tight rope act and it appears, at least to this reviewer, that the director succeeded even if the final product wasn't a stupendous movie.  It shows that some people are bad and some are good and they exist on all sides.

Don Cheadle does a superb job as the guy torn apart in the middle, the witness to atrocities and hypocritical extreme ideology on both sides.  There is tension throughout the film as viewers have to guess which way he's going to ultimately go and if the side he decides to join will accept him or kill him.

Still, the film falls flat in part to its lack of budget.  The final explosion is perhaps the biggest example.  Not that big explosions make a great movie!  Far from it.  It's just that the specifics of the story indicated that this explosion would consist of multiple sources (possible spoiler - I'm trying to be vague) and the one they show is just too tiny for that.  That kind of approach is seen in much smaller touches throughout the film. You can tell that they've passed off certain streets as foreign locales when it was probably just Vancouver, Canada.  That a big chunk of the film ends up in Nova Scotia (about as non-descript as you can get) says something.

Still, it's worth a rental and could possibly lead to some interesting conversations afterwards.  It's definitely food for thought even if it's not a classic.
4061217
There are many interesting moments in this novel, but I found it fragmented both generally and specifically. Generally because it skips around within timelines not only for characters' lives but for generations of characters in order to illuminate the importance and even influence of ancestors in terms of power and respect as well as simple heritage. It also skips around in terms of point of view--different individuals, different stories, even very different realities--all in a jumble. Then, within the characters themselves, it jumps between moments of calm lucidity and unreasoning rage and existential despair, often flavored by substance abuse of one kind or another. I found the story so deeply bleak that it was really laborious to read it through to the end. The reason for the three stars is that the book attempts a great deal: it explores the human condition from the point of view of Native American and mainstream pop culture with characters who have feet in both camps. It addresses huge issues like guilt and redemption, complex views of good and evil. So, it is by no means an easy task--I just don't feel it was that successful in its ambitions.
4227504
Jack is very honest and outspoken in his book. He expresses indignation at social injustices and corruption, often using what is or used to be called salty language.
The problem with the book is that despite the widespread criticism, it really does not analyze the basis for injustice, corruption, and public naivte.  It just curses and complains.

There is also autobiographical material on Jack and his family. Apparently both he and his parents had a problem with alcohol. He was able to become sober. I do think he wants admiration and sympathy. I am a clinical psychologist and was certified as a drug counselor but let it lapse. I think it is fine if someone gets sober, but he is not a hero to me.

The book does review a lot of what's wrong with America, but I can'tstronly recommend it since it provides no insight. Jack had a perfect platform to publicize his book, having a special feature on CNN. Otherwise, I doubt it would have sold so well.
3920172
The setup was mildly interesting and raised lots of questions: What cataclysmic event depopulated Chicago? What made the survivors split themselves into 5 exclusive camps? How is it that the so-called "factionless" people do most of the productive, useful labor without being educated or decently fed? Why is the city shut off from the rest of the world, including the farms that supply it with food? Where do they get the energy to light up those buildings?

These and other questions are subordinated to a tale of intrigue and violence between the factions (which I thought of as Doormats, Sheeple, Bigmouths, Brainiacs and Hotheads) and an extraordinarily jejune infatuation story, told from the perspective of a shallow, self-absorbed teenage girl. There are tantalizing hints that the factions have drifted away from their core message, but the matter is never addressed in a substantive way.

Then, too, there are disturbing underlying messages. The first is that the quest for knowledge - the desire to learn and understand - leads inevitably to schemes for world domination. The second is that character and physical build are linked: the winning team at Capture the Flag "share the same body type: narrow shoulders, small frames" whereas the losers are chunky, "brute force" types. The Erudite villainness has unsightly podge around her middle; clear evidence of her defective personality.

Reader comments on the other two volumes have convinced me that no satisfactory resolution or interesting payoffs are forthcoming, so I won't be reading them.
2034536
I don't consider this noir, it's a free-an-innocent-man neo-realist procedural more in the vein of Naked City or, even, Dragnet.  Jimmy Stewart takes low-key to new lows, his wife appears briefly and supportingly, Lee J. Cobb underplays and remains a cipher, there's no mystery here about how it will end and the journey isn't especially interesting or entertaining.

As others have noted, it does provide a glimpse of the Polish immigrant community in Chicago after WWII and a look inside an amazing prison.  What caught my ear were the 2 or 3 times where the script intentionally indicates that Chicago has the finest police force in the world, anything that happened happened in the old days, we're so over that, etc.
2823523
Mary Kubica can write, obviously. She created a compelling storyline here, with the three relatable first-person protagonists, one of whom--the kidnapper--has an unfolding backstory that causes us to gradually revise our initial perceptions of him as a brutal thug-- as we watch him evolve, awakening his dormant humanity under the influence of the beautiful young woman whom he has ripped from her life and imprisoned in a remote log cabin in the northern woods.  There are stylistic problems, of course.  As his character matures from embittered and self-centered to more caring and responsible, his vocabulary and range of allusions expands correspondingly, far beyond anything plausible for a high school dropout and juvenile delinquent from a trailer camp!

The "flip" at the end, however, infuriated me. My impression was that the author was simply pandering to the modern taste for cynicism, for it was contrived, and would render the story itself meaningless if it were believable. Fortunately, it is not remotely plausible, given what we have learned of these characters throughout.

The other problem that irked me was the (probably unconscious) racism of the author: every reference to African Americans in the story was derogatory--and her association of dark skin with monstrous evil was obvious in her portrayal of the criminal kingpin at the end.