Reviews

Very disappointed. High-school play level acting: most of the principal characters just shout their lines. Writing is all over the place: no overall narrative arc, points that should have been climactic were flat, pacing is nonsensical. More than anything, though, it is difficult to imagine why anyone other than the writer-director-subject would have the least interest in the story. The main character, who is supposed to be a frustrated genius, comes across as a self absorbed mouth-breather.

I know that this film is twenty-five years in the making. It's a pity that the filmmaker's talent and skills didn't match his persistence.

This is very different and much better than I had expected. The monster is sort of a McGuffin for the story of two damaged men.

The two principal characters are well-written and well-acted. The plot keeps the audience off-balance and unsure whether to laugh or recoil. I really couldn't predict where it was going, unlike most low-budget horror.

Criticisms: The writers didn't seem to know how to end the story, so it kind of limps along too long after the denouement. There is really only one secondary character, the podcast producer, and her acting is very weak. But the focus is on the two main characters, which are great.

Instead of a movie about dinosaurs, they made a movie about people running around and saying things. Absolutely no chemistry among the characters. A story that makes no sense. An ending that is not an ending - resolution by voice-over. Ugh.

This script would have benefited from several more re-writes; as it is, it feels like a first draft. In the first episode, one of the characters looks out over the cast and says, "Look, we're all types," and then describes each character as a three-word cliché. If the writers could see this, why didn't they do anything to give them some depth? The plot had as much complexity and development as the average Hallmark Channel Christmas movie. Not funny, not compelling, not worth watching.

Some of the worst dialogue I've heard in years. Every character is a stereotype, every plot point a cliche. Every line is delivered like a first reading.

I can't understand how this got such good reviews. I was embarrassed for everyone involved.

There is no story here. There was a theme park. Then a hurricane hit New Orleans, killed hundreds of people, made thousands homeless, and devastated communities. But let's talk about the theme park that closed. This movie manages to be at the same time pointless, clueless and offensive.

To all the reviewers helpfully explaining what happened in this movie and why it's great if you understand it: I understood what was going on, I just thought the film was pointless and poorly done. I enjoy slow-burn storytelling, but when the "twist" is obvious early in the movie, slow-burn just becomes slow. I get the need for an atmosphere of dread, but when every freaking scene, including outdoor daylight scenes, is so dark that you can't see what's going on and the music is so intrusive that you can't hear critical lines, that's just poor technique. Trying to be arty doesn't make art.

There was a story to be told here, but it is buried in repetition, long unedited talking-head interviews that don't come together, terrible pacing and lots of footage of crooked headstones. By the end, I was just angry at the filmmakers.

Speeches instead of dialogue. Political posturing instead of characters. Archness instead of humor. Some of my favorite actors chewing on tinfoil. The longest 77 minutes I've spent in the cinema.

This felt like a parody of the stuff SK tosses off the pay the bills. Maybe if the Wayans brothers had taken it on, it would at least have been funny. Turned it off after an hour.

A poorly planned expedition, tediously told. I found myself getting angry with these people and the monotonous narrator.

Hard to imagine two characters or performers about whom we could care less. Absolutely no chemistry between Redmayne and Jones, except perhaps for their freakishly overplumped lips. And we're stuck with the two of them in a basket for ninety minutes. Then to learn afterwards that her character was entirely invented just adds insult to injury. I found myself actively angry with this.

Not everything is neatly tied up, but the story has its own integrity. The viewer has to pay attention and work a little. Performances are better than one might expect.

I liked this film a lot more than I expected. The first act nails the look and feel of an overproduced reality show. The found-footage buildup is long and slow, but well-developed. The ending is so unexpected that my spouse and I both literally yelled in surprise. Acting is solid and believable, and writing is layered. Overall much better than the usual run of no-budget horror.

This movie exudes a sort of smarmy seriousness, but it's really just a very long and tedious dirty joke. 63 minutes have never seemed so interminable.

A filthy old man who has been milking fame as a pimp and a hustler for seventy-five years. Would be sad if he weren't so proud of himself. So why do we need to listen to Hollywood people about anything?

Do you remember the "American Dad" episode about going to Snot's dad's funeral, that was a parody of douchy indie road trip movies? That wasn't a tenth as douchy as this. I couldn't make it past the first fifteen minutes. Horrible, self -important, self-dramatizing hipster losers.

Maybe there is something odd about writing a review for a film that was a critical flop thirteen years ago, but I feel the need to defend "The Black Dahlia." As a staple of movie channel weekends, it has become a guilty pleasure, and many of the qualities that repelled contemporary reviewers have aged into respectability. Yes, the dialogue is turgid and the performances alternately wooden and overdone. Yes, the female characters are caricatures of male fantasies. Yes, the costuming and art direction favor gorgeousness over believability. But these stylized mannerisms are exactly what make this film feel like a 40's studio film noir, rather than a 21st-century meta-noir. "LA Confidential" is one of my all-time favorites, and this is no "LA Confidential," but they are attempting different things. "LAC" would have baffled a 1940's audience; "Dahlia" could have run as second billing with any number of solid, enjoyable noirs from back in the day. Brian DePalma alternately annoys the heck out of me with his frequently lazy craft and impresses me with his occasionally brilliant style and ambition. "The Black Dahlia" is not a masterpiece, but DePalma is a better director than most, and he has done far worse.