I never cease to be amused by the pile of unmitigated crap that gets shoveled off onto the moviegoing public by pretentious critics.
—Rex Reed on The Master
Alright. Playtime’s over, Hollywood. Rex is back in town.
“For shock value, cut to Gina Gershon, crawling across a filthy kitchen floor covered in blood to perform fellatio at gunpoint on a Colonel Sanders drumstick, and you have a high-water mark in tastelessness that gives depravity a bad name.” — Rex Reed on Killer Joe
I kept wondering, while glancing at my watch, what it would have been like with Channing Tatum and Amanda Seyfried, or James Wolk and anybody. — Rex Reed (far right) on Ruby Sparks.
Like all previous flicks directed by Christopher Nolan and written by his brother Jonathan, this one defies logic and reeks of repulsive, bloated self-importance (not to be confused with anything resembling narrative) and the arrogant conviction that no matter how slick, obtuse, confounding or incompetent it gets, the fanboys will slobber approval.
—Rex Reed on The Dark Knight. And fanboys.
“Red Lights goes astray on so many levels that I gave up trying to figure it out before the end of the second reel.” — Rex Reed on Red Lights
What I know about the internecine workings of Mexican drug cartels you could fill in an egg cup—and still have enough space left over for the egg. But this I know: It’s a subject and a subculture that has got to be more fascinating than anything in gonzo director Oliver Stone’s deadly, hateful, preposterous and cliché-riddled movie Savages. He even makes the violence look dull.
—Rex Reed on Oliver Stone’s Savages
