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The sexual ritual was some type of Satanist-pagan ritual. My own opinion (and I know not everyone believes in this), is that Stanley Kubrick was trying to subtly convey the message that the Illuminati are real, and that this type of depraved ritualistic sex parties are the types of things that the most powerful and elite people in this world engage in. And that perhaps they are all devil worshippers. As someone who has done a lot of research on the Order of the Perfectibilists, I can say this movie seems to almost directly call out what most "conspiracy theorists" believe are the "Illuminati".

After her outlaw husband returns home shot with eight bullets and barely alive, Jane reluctantly reaches out to an ex-lover who she hasn't seen in over ten years to help her defend her farm when the time comes that her husband's gang eventually tracks him down to finish the job.

While the movie loosely follows the story of Kyle in the Iraqi theater, building up a few composite and manufactured quests for him along the way, it remains true to the spiritual essence of the book, offering a blunt, straightforward, and unapologetic look at how war shaped Kyle and his marriage, how it altered, and in some ways reinforced, his outlook on life and created a rift by way of a dual sense of commitment to his brothers-in-arms and his family back home, commitments that were always at odds with one another, resulting in an inward battle that often seemed more difficult for Kyle than life from his sniper's perch in Iraq's most dangerous cities.

Before leaving, he marries a girl named Taya (Sienna Miller) whom he met in a bar.

Director Clint Eastwood's masterpiece doesn't begin and end with Chris Kyle. The film is densely believable in almost every facet (fake babies, a few obvious dummies, and digital blood notwithstanding) and creates an authentic backdrop in every location, Iraq primarily but also back in Kyle's Texas. The film's war scenes are impeccably precise. There's a sense of large war-torn scale in crushed, cracked, and bullet-peppered buildings and rubble but also basic, lived-in uniforms, ball caps, and even the wear and tear on weapons and gear that give the movie a realistic flavor.

Kyle's ball caps, heavy uniform stitching, web gear, and weapon coating wear all help create an intimate portrait of the man, the tools he carries, and the environment in which he fights, but it's perhaps the transfer's ability to capture Cooper's expert performance of Kyle, not only through a thick beard and general build but deeply into the eyes and down into the soul, a subtlety that very well may become lost in lower definition or even lower grade transfers, that make this a great image.

While speaking of the movie, liberal filmmaker Michael Moore called snipers "cowards" but went on to defend his position and claim a broader support for the troops in the fallout of his comments. Actor Seth Rogan compared the film to Nazi propaganda. On the other side, countless conservative commentators were quick to defend the film and its subject.

Kyle's legacy isn't that of a killer but rather a helper, a man who fought not to kill but to save, a man who, even at the price of some distance from his family and even his own life, lived only in service of others. Eastwood's film is a fitting, satisfying tribute that should live on for decades to come as one of the great War (editor's note: capitalization of "War" occurs multiple times in the review) and character films of its time.

mfunk9786 wrote:It has grammatically dubious run-on sentences that would make David Foster Wallace nauseous

While speaking of the movie, liberal filmmaker Michael Moore called snipers "cowards."

...it's perhaps the transfer's ability to capture Cooper's expert performance of Kyle, not only through a thick beard and general build but deeply into the eyes and down into the soul, a subtlety that very well may become lost in lower definition or even lower grade transfers, that make this a great image,

American Sniper isn't made to glorify war or indulge in the mayhem of modern combat. It's not an Action movie and it's hardly rah-rah propaganda. It's instead a slow-boil film in which war destroys from the inside out. As Kyle thrives on the battlefield and his life comes to be defined by trigger time on the overwatch -- his commitment to saving lives is his one and only priority on the battlefield, not racking up kill counts or earning promotions -- his home life takes hit after hit as he redeploys for multiple tours and his commitment to his family lessens as the war, or better said his commitment to the people in the war, takes precedence. He leaves his overwatch position only when he believes his presence on the ground may be of more benefit to others than his place behind the scope. Kyle carries his commitment to his fellow servicemen at home, too, exemplified in the movie's best scene when Kyle hits the shooting range with a couple of disabled veterans. The moment gets to the core of who he is, a man committed to the service of others and, in that scene, doing so in a capacity he understands and in an environment in which he's most comfortable. In another scene, also stateside, a fellow veteran who Kyle once rescued notices him at a car repair establishment. Kyle respectfully plays down the "hero" status and appears clearly uncomfortable not with the man but with the idea that he's someone who has risen above others not necessarily in rank but rather in stature, seen as someone who did more than his job.

Lola is a film that makes froth do the work of genius. Like The Red Shoes and The Quiet Man, it's one-hundred percent movie-movie horse manure, a series of contrived romantic adventures that elicits a velveteen agony no sensible adult could possibly mistake for the real thing. But just like those movies, it makes you think it's doing more than its Leonard Maltin entry would otherwise suggest--and, in fact, does more than perhaps even creator Jacques Demy ever realized. In doting prettily on its collection of picturesque no-hopers, Lola manages to be profound in spite of itself; the film bestows a divine aesthetic light on people who would normally be passed over for attention, and in so doing gives their life a value that a social-realist film might degrade into a heap of misery. [...]
True, Lola doesn't have the intellectual rigour of those other [New Wave] films and might have been more had it defined something beyond random emotions. But it serves as an important counterpoint to the smartass Cahiers killers who steeled themselves against emotion so as not to seem weak. Lola, like its eponymous lead, is stronger for feeling, showing that we need more than the confirmation of the worst if we intend to make it through our lives intact. This is not to say that Lola is as great as the Godard and Chabrol milestones, merely that it could open them up even further, were they to listen to what it had to say. For in the end, greatness can be an oppressive albatross, beating us into submission with demands for reverence. A film like Lola, scattered though its approach may be, helps us to realize the things that we and others need as much as any sombre dirge to the inhumanity of man.

A pale imitation of Vertigo

Gregory wrote:Wikipedia's entry on Lola pretends to offer knowledge of how it was received by critics, mentioning nothing about critical responses in the film's era but instead offering snippets from 21st-century reviews such as this now-deleted review at Film Freak Central:

Lola is a film that makes froth do the work of genius. Like The Red Shoes and The Quiet Man, it's one-hundred percent movie-movie horse manure, a series of contrived romantic adventures that elicits a velveteen agony no sensible adult could possibly mistake for the real thing. But just like those movies, it makes you think it's doing more than its Leonard Maltin entry would otherwise suggest--and, in fact, does more than perhaps even creator Jacques Demy ever realized. In doting prettily on its collection of picturesque no-hopers, Lola manages to be profound in spite of itself; the film bestows a divine aesthetic light on people who would normally be passed over for attention, and in so doing gives their life a value that a social-realist film might degrade into a heap of misery. [...]
True, Lola doesn't have the intellectual rigour of those other [New Wave] films and might have been more had it defined something beyond random emotions. But it serves as an important counterpoint to the smartass Cahiers killers who steeled themselves against emotion so as not to seem weak. Lola, like its eponymous lead, is stronger for feeling, showing that we need more than the confirmation of the worst if we intend to make it through our lives intact. This is not to say that Lola is as great as the Godard and Chabrol milestones, merely that it could open them up even further, were they to listen to what it had to say. For in the end, greatness can be an oppressive albatross, beating us into submission with demands for reverence. A film like Lola, scattered though its approach may be, helps us to realize the things that we and others need as much as any sombre dirge to the inhumanity of man.

You could have more fun watching grass grow than to try watch this crap somebody called a movie. No nudity at all

domino harvey wrote:

You could have more fun watching grass grow than to try watch this crap somebody called a movie. No nudity at all

cdnchris wrote:

domino harvey wrote:

You could have more fun watching grass grow than to try watch this crap somebody called a movie. No nudity at all

That's a word for word copy of my review for The Great Mouse Detective!

This particular Warner Brothers package is missing the film with the most bigoted Al Jolson/Busby Berkeley number, EVER put to film: WONDER BAR!!! That film has to be purchased separately from Warner Bros, as they felt uncomfortable with a number at the end of the film called, "Goin' To Heaven on a Mule" where Al, in blackface, goes to a segregated black art-deco heaven. Stereotypes are SO thick in this number that they would take pages to describe...

WONDER BAR is Hollywood bigotry at its finest...

I can't believe this was made in 1963-the acting is passable even by today's standards and amazing for back then.