"Skyfall": Suffice to say, I wouldn't kick Daniel Craig out of bed for eating crackers. Is he my favorite Bond? No. Did Sam Mendes over-style this film to death, killing the playfulness and inventiveness that made yesterday's Bond movies so delightful? Yes. See this movie if for no reason other than to witness Javier Bardem as the world's greatest gay villain.
Pudong never looked so glamorous.
"Life of Pi": Ugh. Treacly is a good word here. I made it 15 minutes in before I had to stop. It's all so magical and delightful, and God dwells in every living creature. I read this book a long time ago. I can't stand anything too twee and colorful, regardless of the medium.
I should try to watch it again, but maybe I won't.
"Killing Them Softly": Why you make it so hard for me to love you? Brad Pitt is a sexy beast. For fuck's sake, I really wanted to like this movie. I guess you could say it's a bit like Tarantino -- when it's not ripping off Scorsese -- in that you enjoy the moments of breathtaking freakiness, yet the rest is a fucking mess.
This is cinema that relies mostly on words, true to its original novel form. Its noirscape rains always. "Chopper" it ain't. Richard Jenkins is a lovely driver, Louisiana is fittingly sad, and there's a scene between Gandolfini and a hooker that's the worth the cost of the ticket.