FILM FRENZY

Margaret Qualley in Honey Don’t! (Photo: Universal & Focus)

By Matt Brunson

(View From The Couch is a weekly column that reviews what’s new on Blu-ray, 4K, and DVD. Ratings are on a four-star scale.)

THE BOSS (2016). If there’s one positive thing to say about The Boss, the second movie co-written by Melissa McCarthy and her husband Ben Falcone, is that it’s marginally better than Tammy, their first joint venture as scripters. But that’s only because it doesn’t grow hopelessly maudlin, electing instead to remain a comedy right to the end. Of course, like practically all comedies centering on a boorish and unlikable individual, this wraps up with a few insincere moments of character maturity and empathy, but here such bits are no harder to take than the desperate gags flailing and falling flat at a rapid clip. As Michelle Darnell, a millionaire and self-help guru who loses everything after she’s arrested for insider trading, McCarthy has a few funny lines that she delivers with her usual aplomb. Mostly, though, the film puts her in situations which are humiliating rather than hysterical, and, worse, everyone around her (with the exception of dull Kristen Bell) has been ordered to go over the top with their grotesque characterizations. Among those suffering a direct hit is Peter Dinklage, who usually manages to mine some laughs in even subpar comedies (such as 2015’s equally dismal Pixels) but here can’t inspire even an upturned lip corner. At one point, his character gets to wield a Samurai blade, and it’s an apt visual: Here’s a movie that needs to fall on its own sword and put everyone out of their misery.

The Blu-ray contains both the theatrical and unrated versions. Extras include deleted scenes; an alternate ending; and a gag reel.

Movie: ★½

THE BREAKFAST CLUB (1985). Perhaps John Hughes’ finest hour (he didn’t have many, despite a prolific output), The Breakfast Club was the best of the so-called “Brat Pack” features as well as a seminal film for many who came of age in the 1980s. Bucking the expected norm of viewing teenagers as nothing more than sex-addled nitwits (e.g. Porky’s), writer-director Hughes nicely nails the anxieties and insecurities of the high school set with this entertaining yarn about five disparate students — a jock (Emilio Estevez), a beauty (Molly Ringwald), a nerd (Anthony Michael Hall), a rebel (Judd Nelson), and a basket case (Ally Sheedy) — who are forced to spend a Saturday together in detention and end up discovering some common ground. The occasionally awkward dialogue sounds natural coming from the mouths of the kids, less so when uttered by the overbearing detention teacher (Paul Gleason). Still, the movie does a superlative job of mixing comedy with pathos, and the soundtrack (spearheaded by Simple Minds’ chart-topping “Don’t You (Forget About Me)”) still rocks. Trivia hounds will be interested to learn that Nicolas Cage was sought for Nelson’s role, and that John Cusack was actually cast in the part until Hughes decided (rightly, methinks) that the young actor wasn’t tough enough to convey the character’s hard edges.

Extras in the 4K + Blu-ray edition include audio commentary (from 2008) by Hall and Nelson; interviews with Ringwald and Sheedy; deleted scenes; and a 1999 radio interview with Hughes.

Movie: ★★★½

HIM (2025). Promising quarterback Cam Cade (Tyriq Withers) has always idolized gridiron great Isaiah White (Marlon Wayans), so when the acknowledged G.O.A.T. (Greatest Of All Time) offers to train the young man at his remote home/compound in the middle of the desert, he jumps at the chance. But Cam’s retreat is a symphony of unease, with the athlete experiencing strange hallucinations and witnessing some truly bizarre behavior on the parts of Isaiah, his wife (Julia Fox, unrecognizable from Uncut Gems), and the other young players who practice at the compound. Him is meant to be a critique of the religion of football, the cult of hero worship, and the shrine of self-sacrifice — and between the film’s title and the poster image of Cam with outstretched arms holding footballs where cross nails would traditionally be, there’s also a bit of misplaced (and unearned) Jesus sentiment as well. The film drops the ball on so many levels: It’s visually ugly, often employing muddy and washed-out colors that suggest a lab processing error; it pushes into hyperdrive whenever it serves up supposedly horrific imagery; it fails to add any dimensions to the one-note character of Cam (Withers’ charmless performance doesn’t help); and it’s so weighed down with obvious metaphors and heavy-handed symbolism that it starts to feel like one of those YouTube sermons so beloved by rubes.

Blu-ray extras include audio commentary by director and co-writer Justin Tipping; a making-of featurette; and an alternate ending.

Movie: ★½

HIS GIRL FRIDAY (1940). Simply put, director Howard Hawks’ His Girl Friday is one of the all-time great motion pictures — if anyone ever elects to place a screwball comedy in a time capsule for 25th-century historians to analyze, it might as well be this one. A remake of 1931’s The Front Page, which itself was adapted from the popular stage show written by Ben Hecht and Charles MacArthur, this casts Cary Grant as newspaper editor Walter Burns, whose best reporter, Hildy Johnson (Rosalind Russell), just also happens to be his ex-wife. Hildy’s preparing to quit her job and marry an amiable hayseed (Ralph Bellamy), forcing Walter to pique her journalistic curiosity regarding an upcoming execution in order to keep her in his life — and at his newspaper. The fast-paced banter sprays the screen like machine gun fire, and Russell (in her best role) more than holds her own against her screwball veteran co-star. The brilliant script comes courtesy of the underrated Charles Lederer (The Thing from Another World, Kiss of Death), although one of the best lines — Burns describing Bellamy’s character by stating that he “looks like that fellow in the movies … you know, um, Ralph Bellamy” — was an ad-lib on Grant’s part.

Extras in the 4K + Blu-ray edition include archival interviews with Hawks and a visual essay. This also contains 1931’s The Front Page, with the character of Hildy Johnson in its original incarnation as a man, not a woman, and played by Pat O’Brien; it earned three Oscar nominations for Best Picture, Best Actor (Adolphe Menjou as Walter Burns), and Best Director (Lewis Milestone).

Movie: ★★★★

A HISTORY OF VIOLENCE (2005). A Canadian filmmaker, David Cronenberg here resembles nothing so much as one of his fellow countrymen glimpsed in Michael Moore’s 2002 Bowling for Columbine, gazing at our land across the lakes and wondering why we’re always so obsessed with carnage. In much the same manner that David Lynch deconstructed the myth of the squeaky-clean small Southern town in Blue Velvet, so too does Cronenberg take a hatchet to the façade of bland Midwestern homeliness. His protagonist is Tom Stall (Viggo Mortensen), a family man who becomes a national hero after killing two psychos in self-defense. But the exposure brings a stranger to town, a gruff mobster (Ed Harris) who insists that Tom was once a homicidal kid back in Philadelphia. Cronenberg and scripter Josh Olson (deservedly earning an Oscar nomination for adapting a graphic novel by John Wagner and Vince Locke) create a dizzying examination of this country’s love-hate affair with brutality, exploring numerous gray areas with the help of a powerhouse cast. William Hurt earned a Best Supporting Actor Oscar nom for his hammy (albeit effective) turn as a Philly crime kingpin, but top honors belong to Maria Bello as Tom’s wife, who’s both frightened and aroused by the mystery surrounding her husband’s identity, and Harris, who brings genuine menace to his role as a scar-faced killer.

Extras in the 4K + Blu-ray edition include audio commentary by Cronenberg; an interview with Olson; and a deleted scene.

Movie: ★★★½

HONEY DON’T! (2025). Ethan Coen is again working with his wife Tricia Cooke and without his brother Joel, this time on the second film in what the unconventional couple (he’s straight, she’s gay) are calling their lesbian B-movie trilogy. Honey Don’t! is a fraction or two better than last year’s Drive-Away Dolls, with a weaker storyline but stronger dialogue and more interesting characterizations. Margaret Qualley (Andie MacDowell’s daughter and the younger Demi Moore in The Substance) stars in both — her ofttimes maddening extrovert in D-A D gives way to a more ingratiating one here. She’s Honey O’Donahue, a California private eye whose investigation of a fatal car crash leads her to the ministry doors of a profane, drug-dealing, and sex-obsessed reverend (Chris Evans). Along the way, she seeks assistance from a police officer (Aubrey Plaza) who ends up becoming her lover. Honey’s banter with a flirtatious detective (Charlie Day) is amusing, and her actions toward a misogynistic redneck and his defenseless MAGA bumper sticker are satisfying. The picture is full of throwaway bits, and the lackadaisical approach to the mystery is acceptable until it results in the story simply fizzling out.

There are no Blu-ray extras.

Movie: ★★½

THE KILLER (1989). It’s a highlight of Hong Kong cinema, a mainstay of action cinema, and John Woo’s best film. It was influenced by so many films and filmmakers (as well as — I love this so much — MAD magazine’s “Spy vs. Spy”) and in turn influenced so many films and filmmakers. It’s extremely gory yet also deeply spiritual. And it finds Chow Yun-fat doing what he does best: shooting sympathetic glances, shooting angry glances, and shooting bullets. The Killer finds the actor cast as Ah Jong, a hired assassin whose latest assignment leads to him accidentally blinding innocent nightclub singer Jennie (Sally Yeh). He decides to carry out one final job so he can pay for her operation, but he’s betrayed by those who hired him and forced to hide out. Also on his trail is Li (Danny Lee), a detective who grows to admire the man he’s pursuing. In the tradition of samurai films (to say nothing of Jean-Pierre Melville’s Le Samouraï and many of Woo’s other actioners), The Killer is ultimately the story of a loner bound by his own code of conduct, finding honor amidst the bloodshed and locating the bonds of brotherhood within the perceived enemy. This was also the first flick in which Woo gave gainful employment to white doves to represent soulfulness at the center of all the slaughter.

The 4K + Blu-ray edition offers the movie in its original Cantonese with English subtitles or the English dub. Extras include a trio of audio commentaries, two featuring Woo; a feature-length documentary on the Hong Kong cinema of Woo; interviews with Woo and producer Terence Chang; and deleted scenes.

Movie: ★★★½

MANHATTAN MELODRAMA (1934). The plotline of two boys who grow up to be on opposite sides of the law has been employed many times (e.g. Angels With Dirty Faces), but this might be the first instance of that narrative device being used. It was a big hit, but today it’s best known as the movie John Dillinger had just seen before being gunned down by FBI agents outside Chicago’s Biograph Theater. The slick Blackie Gallagher (Clark Gable) runs an illegal gambling house while his childhood friend Jim Wade (William Powell) is an incorruptible assistant d.a. Despite their differences, they remain fond of each other, but once Jim gets elected district attorney, he won’t let their friendship get in the way of his sworn duty. It’s awfully contrived, particularly the second half when Jim is committed to sending his BFF to the electric chair (which doesn’t bother Blackie in the least!), but the stars do fine work. Myrna Loy co-stars as a classy dame who dumps Blackie for Jim — this would be the first of 14 features that paired Powell and Loy, with their most famous joint venture, The Thin Man, arriving later in ’34. Manhattan Melodrama earned Arthur Caesar the Academy Award for Best Original Story; Gable earned his Best Actor Oscar the same year for It Happened One Night, beating Powell for The Thin Man.

Blu-ray extras include a 1940 radio broadcast starring Powell, Loy, and Don Ameche in Gable’s role; the 1934 short The Big Idea, starring Ted Healy & His Stooges (Moe, Larry, and Curly); and the 1934 short Roast-Beef and Movies, featuring a solo Curly.

Movie: ★★½

RELAY (2025). There have been many movies in which a whistleblower seeks to expose the dirty dealings of an entity, but Relay is different. The whistleblowers in this picture no longer want to go public as they’re tired of the harassment and try to put the genie back in the bottle by dropping the matter and destroying all incriminating evidence. In this shadowy world exists Ash (Riz Ahmed), a self-professed mediator hired by individuals to protect them against retaliation, all while remaining anonymous to everyone involved (including the client). He does so by cannily using the Tri-State Relay Service (a fictional version of the Telecommunications Relay Service), an outfit primarily assisting the deaf, for all his untraceable interactions. His latest job involves helping a former employee (Lily James) at a shady biotech company who is frightened of the corporate thug (Sam Worthington) assigned to intimidate her and wants a normal life again. Ash makes it a rule to never get personal with his clients, but circumstances grow messy once he starts breaking his own guidelines to protect Sarah. Director David Mackenzie (whose Hell or High Water appeared on many critics’ 10 Best of 2016 lists, including mine) and screenwriter Justin Piasecki have assembled a cracking thriller that only suffers from the same problem that has affected other solid suspensers: The final twist isn’t bad but also really isn’t needed to make this sing, and it furthermore is the type that requires matters to unfold in one particular way for everything to work out as planned.

There are no Blu-ray extras.

Movie: ★★★

SCARFACE (1983). With Brian De Palma as director and Oliver Stone as screenwriter, is it any wonder that this update of the 1932 gangster classic was greeted with a barrage of controversy even before it hit theaters? (The MPAA threatened it with an X, though it was finally released with an R.) Al Pacino, in the role that marked the transition from serious thespian to raging ham, is mesmerizing as Tony Montana, a Cuban immigrant who ends up becoming Miami’s most powerful drug lord, and he’s strongly supported by early turns from Michelle Pfeiffer (as his cokehead mistress) and Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio (as his kid sister). And yes, that’s future Oscar winner F. Murray Abraham (Salieri in Amadeus) who refers to Tony as a “fucking peasant” before meeting a grisly end aboard — correction: outside — a helicopter. De Palma directs with his usual technical flourish, Giorgio Moroder provides one of those catchy techno-scores that could only have come from the 1980s, and the profanity flies as fast as the bullets. Subtle it ain’t, but just try turning your eyes away from this study in stylistic excess.

Extras in the 4K Steelbook edition include a retrospective making-of featurette; a 35th anniversary discussion with De Palma, Pacino, Pfeiffer, and co-star Steven Bauer; interviews with De Palma, Pacino, and Stone; deleted scenes; a piece in which real-life law enforcement officers discuss the movie’s setting and characters; a look at the Scarface video game; and an amusing 3-minute comparison between the theatrical cut and the edited-for-network-TV version.

Movie: ★★★

STAGECOACH (1986). Remaking a classic is always a risky — even foolhardy – gamble, more so when one is as revered as John Ford’s 1939 Stagecoach, the influential Western that made John Wayne a star. That’s why the 1966 version, with Bing Crosby, Ann-Margret, and Alex Cord in the Wayne role (clearly, superstar lightning did not strike twice), was greeted with a shrug and has been forgotten over time. Since it was made for television, the 1986 remake didn’t have such lofty goals attached to it — a good thing, since it’s average in every way. Its claim to fame is that it stars a quartet of country music stars in the leading roles, with Willie Nelson (also contributing the title song) receiving top billing as Doc Holliday, embarking on a perilous journey through Apache country alongside The Ringo Kid (Kris Kristofferson in Wayne’s role), Marshal Curly Wilcox (Johnny Cash), and a gambler named Hatfield (Waylon Jennings). The supporting roster includes a few family members — Johnny’s wife June Carter Cash, his son John Carter Cash, and Jennings’ then-wife Jesse Colter — and plenty of TV stars, including The Dukes of Hazzard’s John Schneider and Mary Crosby (aka she who shot JR on Dallas). The stars don’t act so much as react to each other’s presence: The four were good friends (and already recording together as The Highwaymen) and they’re clearly enjoying lobbing soft banter back and forth. In fact, everyone on screen seems to be having such a good time, it’s a shame that viewers of this clunky effort weren’t afforded the same degree of entertainment.

There are no Blu-ray extras.

Movie: ★★

SUFFRAGETTE (2015). With Suffragette, screenwriter Abi Morgan managed to pen a movie about Britain’s working-class women that’s a far sight better than the dud she scripted about Britain’s upper-class harridan, Margaret Thatcher. Whereas 2011’s The Iron Lady soft-pedaled its central character and wasted too many scenes on fabricated interludes, this film is more successful in lacing the factual with the fictional and in presenting the hardships faced by women who simply wanted to be treated equally. Certainly, it’s a story that, although taking place in 1912, continues to resonate today. But Morgan and director Sarah Gavron refrain from making any heavy-handed parallels; instead, their tale unfolds naturally, using the fictional character of Maud Watts (Carey Mulligan) to illustrate the political and social awakening of a victim of patriarchal laws and crushing double standards. Mulligan is typically excellent in the central role, while Helena Bonham Carter lends steely support as veteran activist Edith Ellyn (another fictional construct, albeit one based on a real person). And Meryl Streep pops up to deliver a fiery speech as real-life movement leader Emmeline Pankhurst. Don’t let Streep’s generous star billing fool you: She’s essentially been cast in a bit part, one that even the smitten Academy couldn’t stoop to honor with an Oscar nomination — and a straight face.

Blu-ray extras include audio commentary by Morgan and Gavron, and a making-of featurette.

Movie: ★★★

FROM SCREEN TO STREAM

CHOCOLAT (2000). From Babette’s Feast to Eat Drink Man Woman to The Taste of Things, the past few decades have seen the film world produce so many movies about the rapturous splendor of food that viewers can’t help but wonder if all studio heads also own catering companies on the side. Chocolat is definitely a minor piece when compared to other films of a gastronomical nature, although it’s not without its own charms. Juliette Binoche is just right as Vianne Rocher, a single mom who, with young daughter (Victoire Thivisol) in tow, arrives in a small French village in the late 1950s and opens up a chocolate shop across the square from the church. While Vianne does make a few friends, including a stubborn elderly woman (Judi Dench) and an abused housewife (Lena Olin), she finds that the majority of this conservative burg’s citizenry don’t care to have an outsider disrupt their staid lifestyle — this is especially true of the mayor (Alfred Molina), who looks for a way to run her out of town. The episodic nature of this leisurely film, which finds characters coming in the shop one at a time to dump their problems on Vianne, doesn’t provide for much of a cumulative wallop at the end, but the cast — including a relaxed Johnny Depp as a self-described “river rat” who woos Vianne — puts across this slender material. This was one of several just-OK pictures that Miramax guru Harvey Weinstein bullied into the Oscar race during that period — it ended up with five nominations, including Best Picture, Actress (Binoche), and Supporting Actress (Dench).

Movie: ★★½

HAROLD & KUMAR GO TO WHITE CASTLE (2004) / HAROLD & KUMAR ESCAPE FROM GUANTANAMO BAY (2008) / A VERY HAROLD & KUMAR CHRISTMAS (2011). Harold and Maude Go to White Castle might have been a better bet, but Harold & Kumar Go to White Castle is nevertheless a gross-out comedy with a difference — it tosses some sharp social satire into the usual mix of horny guys, amiable dopeheads, repulsive rubes, and homosexual bit players. And instead of making its lead characters typical morons like Bill and Ted or the Dude, Where’s My Car? pair, this one gives us two smart kids in Korean-American Harold (John Cho), a mild-mannered employee at an investment firm, and Indian-American Kumar (Kal Penn), a more rebellious type who isn’t quite ready to become a medical grad student like his dad desires. The plot is lifted from the Cheech and Chong playbook, as Harold and Kumar spend a Friday night getting high and then deciding that their munchies can only be satisfied by the burgers and fries at White Castle. So they’re off on an all-night road trip, one which finds them coming into contact with a Bible-thumping hillbilly named Freakshow (Christopher Meloni), a pair of college girls prone to engaging in a bathroom variation on Battleship (the film’s nastiest gag), and Doogie Howser star Neil Patrick Harris, playing himself as a drug-addled party animal on the hunt for hookers. The crass humor leans more heavily toward funny-stupid than stupid-stupid, and the movie’s knowing digs at the casual racism witnessed by the pair provide it with a whiff of added subtext.

Since its release, Harold & Kumar Go to White Castle has managed to look better with each passing year, a critical ascension that so far has eluded Harold & Kumar Escape From Guantanamo Bay. That’s largely because the satire is less subversive and more overt, meaning that what you see is basically what you get. Penn and Cho are again an engaging team, and here, the plot requires their characters to get mistaken for terrorists, leading to an interrogation by a moronic Homeland Security honcho (Rob Corddry) who decides to send them to Guantanamo Bay to enjoy a steady diet of “cock-meat sandwiches.” Before long, the boys escape and find themselves on a cross-country odyssey that involves inbred Southerners, a “bottomless” party, dim-witted Klansmen (or is that a redundancy?), and even George W. Bush himself. And yes, Neil Patrick Harris returns, again playing himself as a foul-mouthed womanizer. The bawdy gags aren’t particularly fresh; more amusing is the dead-on parody of right-wing twits who question the patriotism of everyone who isn’t exactly like them (i.e. white and pseudo-Christian) — these scenes aren’t exactly subtle, but they do point out the line that can barely divide satire from reality. Curiously, the movie’s portrayal of Dubya is a sympathetic one. As played by James Adomian, the former U.S. President turns out to be a congenial, simple-minded pothead who isn’t evil, just misunderstood. Coming from Hollywood, that’s high praise indeed.

Closer in spirit — and abundance of laughs — to White Castle rather than Guantanamo Bay, A Very Harold & Kumar Christmas takes place several years after the second film, with Harold now married and living in the suburbs and Kumar still perpetually under the influence back in the former roommates’ old apartment. But the unexpected arrival of a mysterious package containing — what else? — a giant joint ends up bringing the estranged buddies back together again, as they embark on a madcap series of adventures involving the perfect Christmas tree, a waffle-making robot, Russian mobsters, and the return of Neil Patrick Harris as “Neil Patrick Harris,” the profane, doped-out entertainer who, it’s revealed here, only pretends to be gay so he can nail hottie females (“Girlfriends!” he gingerly yells out whenever a target starts to get suspicious of his intentions). A film with far more hits than misses — the mobster storyline is underdeveloped, and a wild sequence that turns our heroes into Claymation characters goes on too long — this entry again benefits from the likable performances by Cho and Penn, and it gets an added boost from the unexpected casting of Danny Trejo as Harold’s surly, Yuletide-loving father-in-law. Don’t miss the scene in which Harold and his assistant (Bobby Lee) get assaulted by a group of egg-carrying activists, a sequence that doubtless drew laughs from folks on both sides of the Occupy Wall Street divide.

Harold & Kumar Go to White Castle: ★★★

Harold & Kumar Escape From Guantanamo Bay: ★★½

A Very Harold & Kumar Christmas: ★★★

NICKELODEON (1976). Peter Bogdanovich followed his phenomenal 1971 hit The Last Picture Show with two more resounding successes — 1972’s What’s Up, Doc? and 1973’s Paper Moon — before helming a string of gargantuan bombs that effectively ended his career (since the 1970s, he had only directed eight features over a 33-year span before passing away in 2022). Among these duds was Nickelodeon, which had a troubled production history and resulted in unhappy memories for all involved. But despite its bad rep, I find it a flawed yet charming homage to the early days of moviemaking. Ryan O’Neal stars as Leo Harrigan, an inept lawyer who gets strong-armed by movie mogul H.H. Cobb (Brian Keith) into writing and (later) directing short films during the fledgling days of cinema. As if churning out an endless series of flicks wasn’t stressful enough, Harrigan also has to tirelessly compete with leading man Buck Greenway (Burt Reynolds) for the hand of young ingénue Kathleen Cooke (model Jane Hitchcock, in her first — and final — big-screen appearance). Tatum O’Neal, Ryan’s daughter (and an Oscar winner for Paper Moon opposite her dad), co-stars as a spunky tomboy who develops a crush on Buck, while John Ritter essays the role of company cameraman Frank Frank. Bogdanovich based his script (heavily reworked from W.D. Richter’s original) on the personal recollections of various veterans of silent cinema, and while many of the slapstick gags fall flat, others work quite well, and the entire cast performs with gusto.

Movie: ★★★

PUBLIC ENEMIES (2009). A classy motion picture whose individual moments are greater than the whole, this period gangster saga is filled with exciting gun battles yet can’t deliver the firepower in ways that matter most: empathy, originality, and a willingness to burrow beneath the legend. Writer-director Michael Mann does capture what’s most important about bank robber John Dillinger (Johnny Depp): his folk-hero appeal, and the way many Depression-era citizens would have found it possible to cheer an outlaw who spent his time sticking it to the banks. Depp possesses the right demeanor for the role, and if he doesn’t register as powerfully as we would expect, that’s the fault of Mann and his co-scripters, who make Dillinger more of an enigma than necessary. Still, Depp fares better than his two co-stars. FBI agent Melvin Purvis is supposed to be the dynamic point-counterpoint to Dillinger, but the role is so thinly written — and Christian Bale tackles it with so little interest — that it’s hardly a fair fight. Then there’s the case of Marion Cotillard, who, as Dillinger’s girlfriend, has little to do but fret and fuss over her man’s line of work. Yet what Public Enemies lacks in complexity, it makes up for in artfulness. Elliot Goldenthal’s soaring score, Dante Spinotti’s camera angles, and the sound team’s snap-crackle-and-pop approach support the costume and set departments to fully immerse us in an era in which a man’s best friend is his weapon, and the manner in which he tips his fedora is as important as what’s on his mind. That’s a remarkably shallow outlook, but with Public Enemies, that’s usually about as deep as it gets.

Movie: ★★½