Julius Harris and Meg Foster on the same set with Matthew Bright and Richard Elfman and it still SUCKS? That's an achievement in itself. I mean, you could film Julius Harris and Meg Foster sitting in Barcaloungers discussing the top five turkeys each has been in or the five wildest wrap parties they've attended, and get 90 minutes of interesting film. You could film 90 minutes of Rebecca Herbst playing beach volleyball in a string bikini in slow motion and be 90 minutes ahead of Shrunken Heads in basic entertainment value. Why bother with all the additional time and effort to extrude this fece?
You sit through what seems like hours of set-up, a lame, stylized, West-Side-Storyish plot backed by imitation Danny Elfman incidental music that just keeps telling us and telling us to bear with it, folks, this is all just clever as hell, pretty soon we're going to swing into action here, and then...nothing.
I mean, I think there should be a cable channel that runs nothing but Freeway 24 hours a day. How is it possible that the guy responsible for Freeway can't see that HIS MOVIE DOESN'T HAVE AN ENDING? It just STOPS.
Seriously, I haven't been this ticked off at such a major waste of film stock since Blue Monkey.
You sit through what seems like hours of set-up, a lame, stylized, West-Side-Storyish plot backed by imitation Danny Elfman incidental music that just keeps telling us and telling us to bear with it, folks, this is all just clever as hell, pretty soon we're going to swing into action here, and then...nothing.
I mean, I think there should be a cable channel that runs nothing but Freeway 24 hours a day. How is it possible that the guy responsible for Freeway can't see that HIS MOVIE DOESN'T HAVE AN ENDING? It just STOPS.
Seriously, I haven't been this ticked off at such a major waste of film stock since Blue Monkey.