Unfortunately, what else can I expect? I really don't agree with anything you've written here. I actually thought the movie was quite approachable, but now it’s becoming clear to me that you need a certain mindset to truly grasp and accept it.
I still maintain that New Jersey has more depth than the other little comedies or Ben Stiller films you listed. I honestly don't see why you're bringing all that up. And looking at your list, it feels like you didn't even catch what the movie was actually trying to portray.
I don't know what kind of values you live by, but the story told in New Jersey is more honest, more meaningful, and—in every sense of the word—more lived-in than so much of the stuff being sold out there right now.
Try to be a bit more open-minded. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind is a more universal film—I think that's exactly why so many people love it. Is it better? Sure, maybe, but that's not the point.
New Jersey is a smaller film, made for a smaller group of people—people who likely build their relationships in different ways. Ways that, to someone like you, probably seem silly, childish, or just plain stupid.
I saw myself in this movie. It spoke about the individual condition and those specific kinds of human connections, the mindset, and the distance between us, in such an honest way that I think anyone could find a piece of themselves in it. But then again, maybe that requires a bit of actual reflection—reading between the lines, so to speak.
It's important to notice those small, cozy moments—like the scene in the hospital waiting room where she offers him her headphones while she's listening to Shinse. He hears it too. He doesn't know what they're listening to, so he asks. And no, that isn't idealism. It isn't being childish. It's connection—the kind we don't see very often.
My own relationships have almost always been built on those kinds of connections. On those tiny, seemingly insignificant situations. Maybe on acting like fools, too. But this isn't a "romance" movie. The film is about the openness of the human psyche. So perhaps that mental openness is exactly what’s required to actually appreciate it.
I'm not sure what you're getting at with that reference to Kissing on The Mouth. Honestly, I don't think it fits at all and has nothing to do with this discussion. The entire point of generational films or social commentary isn't necessarily to be an attack or a negative portrayal of society or a specific generation. There is a dimension to people that we feed on every day—something that transcends all the hardships and attacks of daily life. And New Jersey shows one of those dimensions. Life isn't perfect for Andrew, Sam, or their friends, but it's a reflection of a community that is confused in its own way, yet somehow still belongs.
Kissing on The Mouth has its place, but be careful about where you're applying it; you have to distinguish between the two.
One more thing. I can't stand Coldplay, but having USPS, Shinsi, Remy Zero, and Colin Hay on the tracklist is enough for me to call the soundtrack relatively good.
I'm not a child anymore, and I don't live in some perfect utopia, nor am I trying to pretend I do. But I do know that within many of us—even if it's hidden away—there is a personality similar to Andrew and Sam's.
Don't try to categorize everything based on unfounded subjectivity.
I honestly don't get why people label *Garden State* as just "average." For me, it was absolutely fantastic—one of those movies that just sticks in your head for the longest time. There’s this incredibly sincere, warm dimension to the story that really stays with you long after the credits roll. Why does everyone focus so much on the flaws when the heart of the film is so palpable?
It isn't cliché at all. In fact, I think it communicates the generational experience better than almost any other film we've seen in a long time—maybe even more than most films ever do. Perhaps it’s just a matter of being willing to actually recognize ourselves in it?
It’s really about that internal shift—that messy, uncomfortable process of actually growing up and learning to embrace who you’re becoming. I keep thinking about how much we evolve, and how much weight we put on things like friendship, the deep need for connection, and even that strange, hollow feeling of distance between people. It makes you realize how much our mindset shapes everything; how the way we think dictates the trajectory of our lives, our ambitions, and how much our environment ultimately molds us. But more than anything, it hits on that universal tug-of-war between belonging and alienation. It’s a reflection of that entire 90s generation—how we navigated the world through the music we loved and the stories we told ourselves. Honestly, I don't think any other film has managed to capture that specific intersection of music and memory quite this effectively. There’s a raw, unfiltered truth there that most movies just miss entirely.
It’s not just some cliché love story between two people—there is so much more depth to it than that. And the soundtrack? Honestly, it’s incredible. It doesn't just sit in the background; it truly completes the film. I really think the music is a vital part of what the story is trying to communicate to us.
I really think *Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind* is more than just a great movie—it’s a masterpiece. And honestly, the comparison between that and *New Jersey* actually holds some weight if you think about it. While *New Jersey* might feel like a more "universal" film in terms of its reach, *Eternal Sunshine* does something much deeper. It focuses intensely on the connection between two people, sure, but it also manages to pull off this incredibly effective analysis of an entire generation's psyche and the messy trajectory of human lives. It's much more than just a romance, isn't it?
The movie just doesn't make any sense. Not in terms of style, not in the acting, and definitely not in the production design. I honestly can't tell if there's an actual message being conveyed here—or if they were even trying to achieve something specific with that pseudo-documentary vibe.
And then you have that subplot involving Julia Roberts and Pamela Anderson, which honestly just adds another layer of sheer absurdity to the whole thing.
There isn't even a constructive perspective on the subject matter the film is attempting to explore; it approaches the theme without any real sense of curiosity or genuine interest.
Despite having a real opportunity to say something meaningful, this film contributes absolutely nothing to the conversation.
I mean, I truly don't see what this movie represents for the world at large. It’s just pointless.
That’s exactly what I was getting at—though I think I phrased it poorly the first time. They kept their own names, technically. But at the end of the day, it's all just "fiction," right? The characters aren't necessarily tied to actual real-world events.
*Spoilers* Once again, I have to agree—that scene with the Black man is probably the one that sticks in your throat the most. It set me up so perfectly for this massive "shock twist" when suddenly... nothing. Just dead cold. And literally dead. Also, we really should talk about those three girls in the cafeteria and their whole little world. Those few minutes of their scenes are probably some of the best captured teenage moments on the big screen we've seen in a long time. Or that moment when John starts crying. And then that girl walks up to him. Acadia: 'What's wrong?' John: 'Nothing' Acadia: 'Are you crying?' John: 'Yeah.' Acadia: 'Is something bad?' John: 'I don't know' Acadia: gives him a kiss on the cheek... 'I'll see you later.' It was just perfectly captured.
I really enjoyed this movie. There’s just something about how Tim Burton handled it—wait, no, let me rephrase—there's something about what Gus van Sant did with this project. He could have taken this story in so many different directions, but he chose this path. To me, the way the plot feels "fragmented" actually works in its favor; it proves that the violence isn't just there for shock value or to give the audience some cheap thrill. It’s not gratuitous, and honestly, that’s why the film holds up so well.
Someone mentioned earlier whether the actors were actual pros or just random people. From what I’ve read, van Sant actually held auditions at that same high school in Oregon, and over a thousand students showed up—most of them had never even been in front of a camera before. There was this one interview with John (the blonde guy), where he mentioned he basically landed the role by walking out of the line, approaching van Sant, and just venting to him about how much everything sucked at that school and stuff like that. Apparently, van Sant loved that kind of raw energy. And well, look how that turned out—he got the part.
And one more thing... in this film, everyone is essentially playing themselves.
I honestly can't believe there’s a more successful movie out there from 2003. In every single sense of the word, it's just peerless. I’d love to sit here and deconstruct it, but does it even make sense to try? At the end of the day, it's such a deeply personal experience. Besides, I don't even know if I could find the right words to capture the total sensation that Lost in Translation leaves you with. It has been a long, long time since I walked out of a theater feeling quite like this.
I'm struggling to find anything else to add. Bill Murray—with this performance alone—completely eclipses everything he’s ever done. He has his signature style, and sure, some might say he's playing the same type of character, but right here, the sheer sincerity and naturalism of his approach breathes a perfect kind of freshness into a worn-out archetype. And Scarlett—I mean, is there anyone else who could have played that role better? Then there's Sofia Coppola—both for the screenplay and the direction... she managed to capture a fundamental human truth, a slice of our existence that is so honest and raw in its essence that recognizing it can feel almost painful and bitter. Ultimately, I think it's a universal film. It isn't foreign to anyone. You just need to approach it with a little bit of heart, because really, it's a story about all of us.
I honestly don't know if we'll see something like this again anytime soon.
1. City of God 2. Adaptation 3. Lost in Translation 4. Mystic River 5. Dark Water, Kill Bill Vol. 1, Raising Victor Vargas, Secretary, American Splendor
amberfalcon13 said:To movie felt so uncharacteristically American—honestly, so uncharacteristically Hollywood—that it actually caught me off guard in the best way. Everything from the casting choices to the overall vibe. It felt very much like a Bravo / Independent production...
Wait, what?
What exactly is so "un-Hollywood" about the cast, if I may ask? Is it because none of them have shared a screen with Jennifer Lopez or Cameron Diaz yet? Hmm. If a movie has one single Hollywood element, it’s usually the actors themselves.
And since when does every single American film automatically get labeled as "Hollywood"? Look, I’m not trying to defend the entire US film industry here, but these kinds of assumptions and comments made without any real basis... they really get under my skin.
For starters, this film premiered at Sundance, which gives it at least a little bit of indie credibility—something that sets it apart from what you probably consider Hollywood scum.
I agree that it’s funny—but in this very specific, nostalgic way. To me, it feels like that whole wistful atmosphere is just a natural reflection of Schmidt's own state of mind. And honestly, that’s partially why I think the film works so well; it managed to capture that raw, sincere side of the human psyche. I’m not quite at that stage of life yet, but from what I can gather, Schmidt embodies that genuine sensitivity that eventually blends into thousands of different emotions for almost all of us—you know, how years and time just seem to fly right before your eyes. You look back and wonder: did I actually achieve anything? Will I leave something behind, or was it all just a massive waste of energy and time spent hoping you could find something to be proud of? We spend so much time looking for some sign that our name will be remembered, usually by searching for validation in other people. On the flip side, there’s this incredibly liberating feeling when you finally reach a point in life where time belongs solely to you—when you can just sit back and enjoy, perhaps with a bit of nostalgia, watching the world change around you. Watching nature, watching people... it's that moment when mistakes become permissible, tolerance grows, and you finally have the time to focus on yourself. It gives you the freedom to view things through a completely different lens.
And that is exactly where the conflict of opposing emotions stems from—that blend of humor on one hand and irritability on the other.
But man, I haven't even scratched the surface here. And honestly, better that way.
Sad? Yeah. But the movie succeeded in translating that tiny slice of life onto the screen without ever feeling cliché.
Timothy Cox2 said:If you asked me, he would have taken home the Oscar this year.
The biggest failure of Bruce Almighty isn't even the fact that it’s just another one of those mindless Jim Carrey comedies—you know the type, where there's barely any actual humor to be found—nor is it the way the whole thing is packaged as this big, summer blockbuster built on a script that feels totally unrefined, redundant, and just plain unoriginal.
No, the real tragedy here is how Bruce Almighty takes what could have been a genuinely profound theme—something it approaches with such ambition at first—and then completely strips away the soul. It tosses sense out the window just to settle for that typical, superficial, shallow Hollywood garbage we've seen a thousand times before.
Confessions of a Dangerous Mind is actually a pretty solid movie.
But does that really make George Clooney a great director? Personally, I hope not. I mean, you need more than just a bit of "beginner's luck" to prove you've truly arrived in this industry, right?
As far as I'm concerned, he's still just not my cup of tea—both in front of the camera and behind it.
Final Destination 2 hit theaters at the start of this spring.
I mean, if I were to sit here and tell you whether the characters actually make it out alive or not, wouldn't that be kind of pointless? What would even be the point of watching the movie then, right?
Honestly? The whole thing is a total joke. A farce. Just pure nonsense. I was honestly on the verge of tossing it into the "trashy teen thriller" pile—you know, along the lines of those *I Know What You Did Last Summer* clones—but, well, I finished it.
And here’s the thing... I didn't actually fall asleep. But man, did I yawn. It’s just idiotic. If anything, the script feels different from the typical teen flicks coming out these days, though I certainly don't mean that as a compliment. People die in these incredibly brutal, unexpected ways, which basically just caters to those twisted little fetishes where the director thinks, "Hey, wouldn't it be cool if a semi-truck crushed someone right now?" But beyond that shock value? There’s absolutely nothing there. The ideas are half-baked, and the execution feels like something you'd see in a low-budget road trip movie. There's zero coherence; the plot is just a messy pile of events without any actual logic, and the scenes feel rushed and mindless. It's just silly. It looks like the sequel managed to be even worse than the first one.
You’ll forget you even saw it about seven minutes after the credits roll, but what else can you really expect? At least it wasn't one of those movies so bad that you spend three hours hiding in the bathroom just to avoid finishing it.
You know what? The movie is actually decent, in a sort of panic-room-kind-of-way. Let me rephrase that—the movie isn't "great," per se, but for an 81-minute runtime with a pretty straightforward premise, it’s definitely watchable. And honestly? There isn't a single yawn.
Supposedly, they shot this before the fall of 2001, but then everything got pushed back—first because of 9/11 and later due to those sniper incidents in Washington last year. So, it ends up dropping this year alongside twenty-seven other films starring Colin Farrell all at once. He actually did a really solid job with this role. I mean, truly solid, considering how adrenaline-fueled the whole thing is; the camera basically never leaves the phone booth, with the entire plot revolving around Colin and whatever is happening right outside that booth. That’s why I think it’s no small feat to carry 80 minutes without becoming boring or repetitive. My only real question is... why on earth is Katie Holmes playing his lover? Hmm...
It’s worth a look—especially after you walk out of the theater realizing that all ten of the big blockbusters you actually wanted to see are sold out; go catch this instead. Okay, I’m kidding—the movie is just fine. It'll probably pull in its few million dollars and be forgotten by tomorrow morning. And frankly, why bother with anything more?
One more thing for anyone who hasn't seen it yet: please, don't let anyone spoil it for you. Because once someone gives away the ending of this film, there's really no point in watching it. The ending is... well, it's the key to everything. And probably the best part of the whole movie.
I’ve been scrolling through the replies here, and honestly, after more than ten posts, nobody has actually fixed the one thing that—well, maybe it’s just me—has been bugging the hell out of me: the movie is titled *25th Hour*, not 25 Hours. Okay, now I can finally breathe again.
Anyway, look—the movie is good, but it really doesn't hit its stride until the very end. You spend two hours watching it, and everything only starts to make sense once the credits roll; that's when all those scattered impressions finally click together and everything falls into place.
It’s a solid film. Edward Norton is actually quite impressive (not that I’m much of a fan of his usually), though I have to say, that scene in front of the mirror didn't quite land for me personally—even if the dialogue itself was top-notch.
For the first hour and a half, the pacing feels slow—maybe even a bit too sluggish? But it builds up gradually, and it isn't until the finale that you realize how incredibly powerful this story actually is and how much of an impact it leaves on you.
Regardless, it's definitely worth your time. It's a psychological thriller-drama.
Drug dealers, preppy assholes, sex, high school drama, violence. That's basically the whole checklist.
The movie is so incredibly hyped up, but honestly? It's total garbage—just a shallow, surface-level look at some snobby, privileged lifestyle in the States. It’s mostly just hot guys and girls with zero actual depth to them.
If it weren't for Shannyn Sossamon, I’d probably be calling this the absolute worst movie of the year.
That phone call between Meryl Streep and Cooper is nothing short of legendary—it honestly deserves a spot in the history books. I’m talking about stuff they should be teaching in high school textbooks.