Word: script
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Hanks has often played a decent man isolated--in his mind (Forrest Gump), his disease (Philadelphia), his bereavement (Sleepless in Seattle) or outer space (Apollo 13). As Chuck, he finds his best, most resourceful self in isolation. So does William Broyles Jr.'s script; the 80 minutes it spends on the atoll alone with Hanks make for engrossing storytelling. The film is less sure-footed back in civilization, with the girl Chuck left behind (Hunt). For its soul is on the beach, in its gradually unfolding secrets, its new perils and triumphs. The film has loved inhabiting the real estate...
...here's the story of a thinks-he's-hip fellow amusingly vexed at losing his identity. It could be called Dude, Where's My Karma? The cast, especially Spade (we keep wanting to call him David Snide) and Warburton, give bounce and sass to a script full of clever ideas. You won't find the emotional grandeur of The Lion King here, but that's O.K. Emperor doesn't aim too high or strain too hard; it is at ease inhabiting its pretty, miniature realm...
...popular fiction - is either ruttin' randy or picturesquely deranged. Annie can't do a good deed without getting whacked around by Donnie, the inbred ingrate. When she complains to a cop about him, the cop offers this blithe appraisal: "He's high-strung." No more so than the script, by Billy Bob Thornton and Tom Epperson; it is given to violent outbursts amid its sullen patches, and plot twists that don't strain plausibility so much as ignore it. By the end, the movie has gone goofily gothic - more Wes Craven than Truman Capote - and you may be convinced that...
...emperor status. So here's the story of a thinks-he's-hip fellow amusingly vexed at losing his identity. It could be called "Dude, Where's My Karma?" The cast, especially Spade (we keep wanting to call him David Snide) and Warburton, give bounce and sass to a script full of clever ideas. You won't find the emotional grandeur of "The Lion King" here, but that's OK. "Emperor" doesn't aim too high or strain too hard; it is at ease inhabiting its pretty, miniature realm...
Forrester’s abject uncomplexity is less Connery’s fault than it is that of the film’s poor script, the first sold by radio film critic Mike Rich. Yet Connery does much on his own to make the role irritatingly undistinguished. Forrester’s path of emotional evolution in the film seems forced, each of its extremes a protest against the brusque and wry tendencies that Connery has honed for so long. Thus, when Forrester rails against his life’s misfortunes, his attitude seems unreal, an instrument of the plot. When...