KILLERS OF THE FLOWER MOON

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An unrelenting parade of murder, greed, misery, and menace, "Killers of the Flower Moon"commits the unforgivable sin not giving its audience any ounce of relief.

There is no where to hide from its violence.

Alfred Hitchcock was a master at knowing where to draw the line for his audience so you always felt in capable, and caring hands.

Sadly, this is not the case with "Killers of the Flower Moon."

Regardless of how historically accurate the film might be in its depiction of an oil-rich community of Native Americans assassinated by greedy white men, the bloated movie leaves you cold.

The only character you root for is Lily Gladstone's Mollie, who seems at least for a moment to know that her betrothed husband Ernest (Leonardo DiCaprio) is an idiot criminal of the first water.

Lily Gladston's performance is the only reason to see this movie.

"Killers of the Flower Moon" is a grueling, punishing experience to sit through.

Anyone with a half a brain could edit an hour out of this movie, blindfolded.

This is not the film that should seal Martin Scorsese's storied career.

"Taxi Driver" is still best movie he ever made.

Rated R. 310 mins.

MAESTRO

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Groupthink doesn't live here, critical thought does. This ad-free website is dedicated to Agnès Varda and to Luis Buñuel. Punk heart still beating.

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It's rare for an actor/director/screenwriter to become so enthrall with his or her creation that they get their hand stuck in the cookie jar of their own movie.

Such is the sad case for Bradley Cooper, whose deep impersonation of Leonard Bernstein obliterates everything around it, including Carey Mulligan's exquisite portrayal of Felicia Montealegre Cohn Bernstein.

Bradley Cooper's insistence on giving his historic character the stuffed-up voice of man with a constant cold, wears out the viewer early on.

A lack of narrative focus exposes Bernstein's outrageous narcissism. The result leaves the viewer to wonder why we should give two cents about Leonard Bernstein as anything other than an abuser of everyone he came into contact with.

What a monster of a human being.

Perhaps there's room for a gay #MeToo movement.

Here is a film that needed a serious rewrite, much tighter editing, and direction by a filmmaker other than Bradley Cooper.

At least "Maestro" is an easy movie to forget.

Rated R. 129 mins.

ONE FOR ALL: THE DJ CHRIS VILLA STORY

   Groupthink doesn't live here, critical thought does.

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As pedestrian as it gets, this amateurish documentary confirms the idea that DJing represents the antithesis of musicianship.

You could argue that DJs ruin songs by altering their original production with endless scratching, clipping, and mechanical manipulation. Oh, and endless fooling around with headphone placement comes with the territory.

Talk to any working musician about the live work they lose to DJs, and you'll get an ear full.

Curating a cool song list used to be the province of Jones Generation music lovers who would make endless mix tapes (cassettes) to impress their friends. That was cool.

For as much of a nice guy as "One For All" paints its subject, Chris Villa's personal story comes across as mundane.

Villa's effort at winning the Red Bull 3Style World Championship, sets the movie's minimal narrative arc.

Clearly, there is a closed community of people who make the rules and harvest money for Red Bull, but we don't get any behind-the-scenes dirt.

Would-be DJs out there might get a whiff of inspiration from watching Chris Villa's story, but you won't learn any craft. That is if you consider rhythmically fiddling with faders and dials much of a craft.

Personally, I say get an instrument, like a guitar, and learn how to play it.

Music doesn't come from DJs.

Not Rated. 110 mins.