There was a time Oliver Stone took risks and punched harder with his filmmaking style and history-challenging investigation efforts through compelling dramatization. The 70-year-old self-described dramatist used to stir provocative emotions and drop jaws with grand revelations. Those days feel like a distant memory with “Snowden.”
Tongues are inserted into cheeks at a rapid-fire pace in “Bridget Jones’s Baby. The euphemisms, drollery, puns, wild physical gags, and self-deprecating farce originate from all directions and target anyone with eyes and a smile. The writing is harebrained in the most smart and witty ways possible and, trust me, that is a compliment. Better yet, when it needs to, the movie turns off the jokes and hits you with the necessary heart to make all the silly stuff enormously endearing.
Building domestic suspense in poignant fashion and shifting between three eras, “Reparation” examines potent human flaws and plants them in small-town America with real-life consequences. This film doesn’t need a grandiose battlefield saga of hidden heroism to be the catalyst. This isn’t “American Sniper” and glossy hero worship. “Reparation” welcomes more intimate and jagged complications with authentic down-home realism and charm.