If you’ve seen one young girl writhing around in restraints, hissing obscenities in foreign tongues, you’ve seen them all, yet the PG-13 rating insures that her invective is limited to the likes of: “Your mother darns socks in heck,” and no crucifixes were harmed in the making of this picture.
When a film’s protagonist is a raging asshole, it’s invariably revealed at some critical juncture that he or she is really crying on the inside.
Fresh off a murder rap, an aging gang member spends his first minutes of freedom blankly observing a pair of nogoodniks as they pull a woman who just rear-ended them from her car and deposit her in a trash bin.
By Sharon Margolis
There are two bars in Philly where you can drown your sorrows on the cheap, and in retro style, without having to look apologetic for it; self-deprecation’s already on the menu.