Mr. Brooks, is exceptionally glossy.
While we aren't in the business of evaluating thrillers, this trailer looks promising.
A certain amount of the film work was done in our neighborhood. So we care.
The arrival of the movie industry stimulated some of the best wine-sipping block parties the neighborhood has seen. The neighbors ignored the gastroenterology boiling inside the house that was tricked out for the film.
Costner was the diplomat, practically selling tickets through his charming approach to the locals. William Hurt acted as though the neighborhood was infected with hepatitis. Demi Moore was, hate to say it, mostly a dismissive diva. Occasionally she was seized by a spasm of noblesse oblige.
No wonder Hurt looked so woebegone when he arrived for shooting on Oneonta St. Just past the door of a pleasant house on a tree lined street in a golden suburbia he knew he was facing co-reticulated coitus and blood-spurting spruel.
Let us ask it once again: is not the movie business grand?