Never, never, never (did I say “never”?) shall I see a movie again without consulting the Tomatometer which supplies an instant verdict on whether a movie is good or bad.
I point you to an earlier review, “Seven Pounds,” truly dreadful in every way and scoring a ripe 29% on the Tomatometer, to be contrasted with “Slumdog Millionaire” which received a 94% and is an incredible production.
The music!
The lighting!
The action!
The plot!
The content!
The acting!
Driving two miles to the theatre that night I struggled to keep my eyes open while thinking: “Self, you are dumb to go to the movies tonight when you are so tired for you will surely fall asleep.”
NOT.
Throughout the performance my eyes flew out of their sockets several times and in one scene, with many others, I screamed. At the end some applauded.
This movie will win the Academy Award for Best Picture. It must.
Warning to the squeamish: It is not for you. Two seats from me a 20-something female left after 15 minutes, followed two minutes later by her mother (I presume), and then her father (I presume) after the mother retrieved him. Those who liked the faint-hearted, insipid “Seven Pounds” or movies like it will not be able to abide this. For those who love art, this one’s for you.
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