Article: All the President’s Men

article

Title: All the President’s Men

Year: 1976

Director: Alan J. Pakula

MPAA Rating: PG

 

Bernstein, after flipping through a couple notes on his desk, dials the White House Library and is greeted by an elderly lady on the other side.

“Hi. Carl Bernstein of the Washington Post. I was just wondering if you remember the names of any of the books that Howard Hunt checked out on Senator Kennedy.”

“I think I do remember,” the librarian replies affirmatively, and Bernstein grows a little hopeful. “He took out a whole bunch of material. Let me just go see.”

After a few minutes pass, Bernstein hears the click of the phone being picked up again on the other side, and he prepares his pen.

“What I said before? I was wrong. The truth is, I don’t have a card that Mr. Hunt took out any Kennedy material. I don’t remember—I do remember getting that material out for somebody, but it wasn’t Mr. Hunt.”

Bernstein stares at his partner, Bob Woodward, and they note the familiar sound of fear in their source’s voice. “Right,” Bernstein replies doubtfully.

There’s a frightful silence before she adds, “The truth is, I’ve never had any requests at all from Mr. Hunt.” Another silence, then she concludes, “The truth is, I don’t know Mr. Hunt.”

Blinking with realization, Bernstein decides to salvage what little he can from the source. “Uh, I was just wondering if you have any books—” Click and the call is dead. “Hello?”

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Article: Casablanca

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Title: Casablanca

Year: 1942

Director: Michael Curtiz

MPAA Rating: PG for mild violence

 

Although the night is clear and quiet, it still wears a cloak of melancholy. Casablanca, Morocco is asleep. Rick sits alone at his own bar, serving up a drink for himself. As he downs another glass of strong drink, Sam, the pianist, slowly paces in with a look of worry in his eyes.

“Boss,” Sam begins after a while. “Let’s get outta here.”

“No, Sam. I’m waiting for a lady,” Rick sighs, a tinge of heartbreak in his voice.

“Please, boss. Let’s go. Ain’t nothing but trouble for you here.”

“She’s coming back,” Rick continues, ignoring Sam’s comment. “I know she’s coming back.”

“We’ll take the car and drive all night. We’ll get drunk. We’ll get drunk till she—”

“Shut up and go home, will ya?” Tears are forming in the corner of Rick’s eyes.

“No sir,” states Sam loyally. “I’m staying right here.”

Rick ignores him and downs another glass. “They grab Ugarte, and she comes in,” he says, more to himself than to Sam who has begun to improvise quietly on the keys. “It’s the way it goes. One in, one out. Sam, it’s December 1941 in Casablanca. What time is it in New York?”

Sam, confused by the sudden question, stammers, “I-my watch stopped.”

“I bet they’re asleep in New York. I bet they’re asleep all over America.”

He slams a fist into the table as a painful pinch makes its way to his heart, a lump forming in his throat. “Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine.”

Article: The Good, the Bad and the Ugly

article

Title: The Good, the Bad and the Ugly

Year: 1966

Director: Sergio Leone

MPAA Rating: Approved

 

Tuco, a criminal with a crooked smile, sits on a horse with a noose tight around his neck. He squirms uncomfortably. A crowd surrounds him, waving their hands in front of their faces to keep the flies away. Squinting to shade the sun, the deputy finishes reading Tuco’s offenses. “Therefore, according to the powers vested in us, we sentence the accused here before us, Tuco Benedicto Pacifico Juan Maria Ramirez.”

From behind a horse stable’s window, Blondie steps out to survey the scene, a cigar in his mouth. “Known as the ‘Rat’,” he whispers.

“…and any other aliases he might have, to hang by the neck until dead. May God have mercy on his soul. Proceed.” The deputy, concluding the list, gives the executioner a nod. The executioner raises the whip and brings it down on the horse, but before the whip touches the horse’s back, a gunshot tears it from his hand. Another shot severs the noose around Tuco’s neck and send the horse galloping away. Then three more shots remove the hats of three frightened onlookers.

Review: Happy Death Day (2017)

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Happy Death Day (2017)

Rated PG-13 for violence/terror, crude sexual content, language, some drug material and partial nudity

Rating: 7/10

I can easily imagine how the script pitch meeting for Happy Death Day unfolded. A producer shouts out, “Let’s remake Groundhog Day!” followed by another producer who shoots his hand up and adds, “with blood and death!” Some could rightly say that Hollywood is running low on creativity because now they have resorted to mashing up two ideas. Honestly, though, this idea works to an extent. Happy Death Day is stupid fun. Turn your brain off for an hour-and-a-half or so and enjoy this roller-coaster.

Article: Blade Runner

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Title: Blade Runner

Blade Runner: The Final Cut (aka Blade Runner: The Definitive Cut) 2007 Release*

Year: 1982

Director: Ridley Scott

MPAA Rating: Theatrical Version: Rated R for violence

Final Cut: Rated R for violence and brief nudity.

 

Shirtless and dripping from the pouring rain, Roy Batty, an Android, steps closer to Rick Deckard, chasing him into a corner. Clenching a dove in his hand, he sits down and locks eyes with the frightened Blade Runner. He collects his thoughts before speaking slowly, enunciating each word with care: “I’ve seen things you people wouldn’t believe,” he chuckles cynically before continuing. “Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhauser gate. All those moments will be lost in time.” He gulps sorrowfully. “Like tears in rain… Time to die.” Smirking one last time at Deckard, he bows his head. Rain pours down over his head and drips down from his chin in a single stream. The dove flutters out of his hands and ascends.