Andrade ‘Cien’ Almas has a mouthful of a moniker (does he need the nickname in the middle?) and his entrance gear is Los Boricuas cosplay. Leave the goofy hat, braces and linen trousers at home, and you might be on to a winner with the former Sombra.
Also, didn’t Tye Dillinger look great in that opener? Someone’s angling hard for that main-roster call-up.
As a documentary, it’s unremarkable, though you can say that about nine out of 10 docs out there. But as a visual biography? That’s exactly what this is: an often surprising history of the early years of the hardest - and hardest working - glam rockers the US ever produced, and one that leaves you thirsting for more.
Well, April went by fast. Too fast to stop and take account, though on review I didn’t achieve that much. I watched a few movies and a bit of wrestling and a lot of anime. I listened to hours of podcasts. I read a whole bunch. I suppose that all adds up to something but right now I couldn’t tell you what.
What promises to be a high-concept thriller - in which a gang of assassins who employ elaborate Final Destination-style tricks to stage their hits are turned on each other by seemingly trickier forces - doesn’t take long to dissipate into a bland, tension-free surveillance drama that aspires to the paranoiac heights of The Conversation but has to settle for occasional bursts of violence to spike the attention graph.
Now here’s a real treat! Jon Favreau’s take on the Rudyard Kipling tales, as opposed to the boring 1960s Disney cartoon, is a visual feast and an exciting adventure with heart and soul despite being made almost entirely with computers. Shame the kid playing Mowgli is so bad, mind, but that doesn’t detract much from the triumph that is The Jungle Book.