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Get Iron Man To the Frozen Killer Babies

By Genevieve Burgess | DVD Releases | September 28, 2010 |

By Genevieve Burgess | DVD Releases | September 28, 2010 |

The Killer Inside Me: “Director Michael Winterbottom’s The Killer Inside Me is many things. It’s a beautifully shot glimpse of how sordid small-town life can be. It’s an unflinching look into the mind of a killer. It’s a brutal and uncomfortable display of violence, particularly against women. It’s an example of absolutely brilliant acting, and it’s an incredible movie, but often one to be endured rather than enjoyed. I’ll warn you that it’s a difficult film to review without revealing some spoilers, but most of what will be spoiled takes place in the first act of the film.” - TK

Frozen: “First, we got stranded scuba diving in the ocean with sharks. Then, Boobs McGee from “Chuck” got stranded in a desert canyon. They’ve even attempted to strand a girl in a motherfucking parking garage and still I was able to believe it. But for the love of Odin’s icicle-crackling pecker. A fucking ski-lift? A FUCKING SKI-LIFT?! Yet, for such an unbelievably retarded premise, the first half or so of Frozen — the third horror flick from promising newbie Adam Green — is actually pretty goddamn good. Green does an all right job setting up the dynamic between his three collegiate victims, a viable excuse for stranding them and causing monstrous peril and panic, and then torturing them with every possible trick in his NordicSack of Evil. Oh, sure, there are logic gaps that you could lob a walrus through, but really, you just signed on to watch a movie about three people trapped on a fucking ski-lift, so shame on you. It’s only in the interminable third half-hour that Green has exhausted his surfeit of gimmicks and we’re forced to endure a “Grey’s Anatomic” quantity of dialogue. The first two-thirds of Frozen was rock solid and full of snarky humor and a ridiculous amount of theoretically brilliant meta-referential humor, like all of Green’s previous work on Hatchet and Spiral. But the last bits are chunky yellow snow, totally spending whatever credibility and fun Green had set up with the rest of the film. You’re left with a feeling of crumbling delight at the project. Just like everything else Green’s done. You almost want to hire a closer for the kid, because he’s one of the best starting inning filmmakers out there.” - Brian Prisco

Babies: “I’m not so sure, though. I took it upon myself to review Babies because I’m the site’s resident softie, because I somewhat recently had one, and because I can safely confess to digging babies. All the same, I didn’t care for Babies. It’s hard to believe such a thing about what is essentially an 80-minute video poem to ‘lil ones, but all the best bits were in the trailer. The other 78 minutes of filler material felt like watching someone else’s home videos. Once you’ve gotten, ‘Hey. That’s a cute baby,’ out of your system, the documentary doesn’t have much else going for it. Yes, they’re adorable. But they don’t really do any tricks. Granted, if you’re into beautiful static cinematography and an interminable series of Hallmark close-ups of babies, you might get a little more mileage out of the documentary than I did.” - Dustin Rowles

Iron Man 2: “I’ve seen a few review headlines for Iron Man 2 this week, and I swear to God, Christina Hendricks could fuck a few critics out there until they bled and they’d complain about the scratch marks on their back. Give me a goddamn break. There’s a huge difference between a blockbuster shit pile and a great summer movie with a few flaws. I understand that the first Iron Man created certain expectations, but that’s no excuse to rag on a great cinematic lay because it was wearing the holey Hanes instead of the black lace. Take off the panties, and Iron Man 2 has still got plenty of moves. It’s a little thicker around the waist and the conversation is occasionally awkward, but the franchise can still throw you up against the wall and writhe up against your tingly parts until you’re spent and maybe even a little raw. It takes a little more to get you off the second time, but that’s no excuse to complain because you’re sore the next day.” - Dustin Rowles

Get Him to the Greek: “That’s the overriding feeling in every scene of Get Him to the Greek, a kind-of-sequel-kind-of-not to 2008’s Forgetting Sarah Marshall. Written and directed by Nicholas Stoller, who helmed the first feature (which was written by Jason Segel), the film takes the Aldous Snow (Russell Brand) character from the first film and builds a new story around him involving his attempt to make a comeback by performing at Los Angeles’ Greek Theatre on the ten-year anniversary of a live show that cemented his status as a rock legend. The problem is that his character is markedly different from the first film, and in erratic and inconsistent ways. He’s still a boozer and womanizer, but now he’s also got an ex-wife and son whose presence feel extra forced after his previous incarnation as the lover of a TV star. He’s also given to bouts of drug-fueled rage and equally annoying moments of revelation that are meant to be soul-baring, but both come across more as placeholders than real emotions. But the weirdest aspect of the whole film — the element that makes it so funny but also so forgettable — is the casting of Jonah Hill as the aspiring record exec tasked with shepherding Aldous from London to Los Angeles. Hill played a supporting but still very visible role in Forgetting Sarah Marshall, as a waiter infatuated with Aldous. Asking us to buy him in this movie is like asking us to sign on for a sequel to The 40-Year-Old Virgin starring Seth Rogen as Andy’s country cousin. It’s a cute idea, but it winds up making everything feel surreal, as if this is the bizarro version of the earlier film. It’s just, well, off.” - Daniel Carlson

Also released this week: Coco Chanel and Igor Stravinsky, Superman/Batman Apocalypse

Genevieve Burgess is a Features Contributor for Pajiba. You can follow Genevieve Burgess on Twitter.