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Answer: I'll admit that I liked the first one, and was really looking forward to the sequel.

I was let down. Sure the special effects were technically amazing -- but they weren't believable looking. It looked more like a cartoon. Alright, I admit to liking 80% of the chase scene -- but the fight with all the Mr Smiths? It was too obviously animated.

I can accept all of that. What I can't accept is that the non-action parts were crap. Every time Morpheus opened his mouth, I knew I was in for a speech that went on forever and signified nothing.

I was also disappointed with the little plot that did exist. What this movie did was tell us that there was no truth in the first movie (except about the existence of the matrix). This movie was a little like seeing the episode of DALLAS where you find out that the entire previous season was a dream.

Ugh! I want my $7.00 back!
An example of a movie review. negative (OPTIONS:
- negative
- positive).

A: Well I'm blowed, a Woody Allen film that I walked out of after half an hour (I'm aware of the moral fragility of commenting on a film of which I've seen less than half, but I hope you'll understand why). Basically, it became apparent very early on that we were going to be patronised from the screen with: a script that set out its conceit as if with bullet points; a cast that were all trying to be characters from Hannah and Her Sisters (with the exception of Chloe Sevigny), and were badly directed into doing so; and a camera that sat around portentously, only for there to be nothing to film but chat and the actor delivering it. Drama? None; it's partially pre-narrated, but the action does nothing to develop a dramatic situation.

Maybe I did leave too early in this case, but by then I'd decided against another hour and a half of one-liner-Allen clones. The script has its funny moments I went almost entirely on the back of Will Ferrell's excerpts in the trailer (trailer-hooked again, doh!) but there's little pace to let them fly off nonchalantly, as is best. Worse than this there's no fluidity. Saying this film's wooden makes a forest look like a jelly: the opening cafe-bound discussion being the most abject case-in-point. The only thing that should be done by numbers is potted reviewing 2/10.
Q: What's an example of a movie review?
An example of a movie review is here: Spoilers

Well, the one line summary says it all. Melville's "Le samurai" is the original and there are elements of "Leon". And they are better - much better!

In the "Samurai" Alain Delon is a lonely warrior / professional killer who keeps a bird in cage and is stealing cars for his jobs (with so much suspense in these scenes!). Even the end is exactly the same: the samurai seeks death in dignity and is getting shot with an empty gun in his hand. The world has changed he realizes and there is no place for the samurai in it.

Delon is not killing so many people like the Ghost dog. But I guess Jarmusch liked "Leon" very much or even "Desperado" by Rodriguez. So he added this, too. And let me guess: the girl will become a professional like Ghost dog (like Natalie Portman in "Leon")?

So what was Jarmusch thinking after all? Where is the unique, the original thought in this movie?

I can't see the point in making carbon (celluloid) copies.

A 4/10 rating by Macaulay Connor
Problem: Write a negative (OPTIONS:
- negative
- positive) movie review.

Answer: A truly frightening film. Feels as if it were made in the early '90s by a straight person who wanted to show that gays are good, normal, mainstream-aspiring people. Retrograde to the point of being offensive, LTR suggests that monogamy and marriage are the preferred path to salvation for sad, lonely, sex-crazed gays. Wow! Who knew? The supporting characters are caricatures of gay stereotypes (the effeminate buffoon, the bitter, lonely queen, the fag hag, etc.) and the main characters are milquetoast, middle-class, middlebrow clones, of little interest.

As far as the romantic & ideological struggles of the main couple are concerned, there's not much to say: we've seen it all before, and done much better.
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Answer: This is definitely one of the best movies I've ever seen-- it has everything-- a genuinely touching screenplay, fine actors that make subtlety a beautiful art to watch, an actually elegant romance (it's a shame that that kind of romance just doesn't seem to exist anymore), lovely songs and lyrics (especially the final song), an artistic score, and costumes and sets that make you want to live in them. The ending was only a disappointment in that I was expecting a spectacular film to have a brilliant end-- but it was still more wonderful then the vast majority of movies out there. Definitely check this movie out-- over and over again. There are many details you miss the first time that deserve a second look.
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Answer:
It's official, folks -- Hou Hsiao-Hsien doesn't have a thought in his pretty little head. Are you wondering why he chose Shu Qi as his muse?

Shu ( or is that Qi? ) doesn't appear in this one. Instead we get a snaggletoothed Yo Hitoto, apparently a pop star in Japan -- judging by her song at the end, she's a pop star just like the girl who serves you at Rockin' Curry is "a actriss" -- and a wasted Tadanobu Asano, typically an indicator of quality, who is required to do nothing here but stand around and look like a mumbling Asian hipster and is too old to manage even that.

Hou's philosophy? Life is limbo, a big nothing, feel it and move on. I'd like to do that but Hou gives us nothing to feel in Cafe Lumiere beyond a bland photo essay of Life in Tokyo Circa 2003 and the flabbergasting observation that people are ships that pass in the night, no, make that trains that pass in the day, never connecting, each hurtling to its own destination, usually some variant of a dark tunnel or maybe a bridge if they're lucky. Yikes. Flowers of Shanghai is one of the most rarefied, technically accomplished and mesmerizing films of all time. How could the same director who created the opening shot of that film, which features about twelve actors conversing at machine-gun speed for about ten straight minutes -- an impossible directorial feat -- get trapped making this laconic sub-Jarmusch reality porn for two films in a row now? Millennium Mambo may be dead weight, but at least it has two great shots, shots that hint at Hou's true calling as the film equivalent of Odilon Redon: Those shots are the sex scene with the arrhythmically blinking lights and the opening shot of Shu Qi floating down a blue corridor. His M.O. while making Cafe Lumiere seems to have been to remove the two great shots from Millennium Mambo to make it more consistent. You be the judge if that sounds appealing.

Hou does not need to refine -- you cannot refine the limbo idea further than Flowers of Shanghai. He needs to expand, to bloat outwards, to release the inner expressionist and genre-revitalizer that is being squandered so senselessly on cliched minimalism. It's time for him to do a live-action remake of Akira or something. This kind of art film where the actors are supposed to be authentic because they are held facelessly in long-shot and speak in monosyllables is now every last bit as safe, ghettoized and stagnant as the Hollywood action blockbuster. ( What is the connection between "reality" and people who can't talk? It seems to me that people "in real life" never stop jabbering. ) Then again, considering that 2005 alone brought big-budget movies as diverse and rich in ideas as Aeon Flux, The Island, and King Kong, it's now safe to say that even Michael Bay has surpassed Hou, and that's really sad.

The good news is that, though Hou is in his 50s, it frankly feels to me as if he hasn't even begun. There are a couple moments in this film that show the promise is still there, such as a moody bit early on in the bookstore when the room dims to a bloody sunset-red while Hitoto talks about babies with the faces of goblins. But whatever fear is holding him back, however comfortable it is to make the same film over and over and be hailed by the gullible and pretentious as the savior of cinema, Hou, your time as the darling of the Rotterdam, Venice, Toronto, Berlin and whatever else film festivals is almost up and people are catching onto your ruse double-quick. Two words for you: Atom Egoyan. Two more words, or maybe three: Tsai Ming-Liang. You are now cribbing from both of these tedious frauds who are about to go up their own dark tunnels forever. Risk your shirt on a sci-fi epic, sell out, be reviled -- but leave the social critiques to people that have no eye and no heart. Let your painterly talent express itself to the full. You're not going to ever get out of limbo otherwise.