You know what was a good movie, and in no way a cynical miscalculation?
You remember how a distant 1930’s comic book hero that nobody under the age of 50 was familiar with was resurrected for a big-budgeted 1990 film aimed at adolescents? Do you remember how the film starred Warren Beatty, whose name just screams “teen box office attraction”?
Do you remember how Dustin Hoffman helped out his buddy Warren Beatty by doing a cameo as the gangster Mumbles, who speaks in a slurred mutter, which is apparently different than how Dustin Hoffman usually talks?
Do you remember how rapt attention was paid to the movie’s celebrated color palette inspired by the 30’s comics while apparently no note was given to the fact that the movie was a joyless exercise to begin with?
Do you remember how the film prominently featured Madonna, whose presence has never benefitted a single film in the history of cinema?
I remember all of these things. I’ve probably thought about the Dick Tracy movie every day for the past 18 years. I watch it in its entireity every weekend.
On an unrelated note, my priorities are completely in order.