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Deal or No Deal - (Mar 29th)
The 11th Hour with Stephanie Ruhle - (Mar 29th)
The Last Word with Lawrence ODonnell - (Mar 29th)
The Kelly Clarkson Show - (Mar 29th)
Renters - (Mar 29th)
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Family Guy - (Mar 29th)
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Royal Crackers - (Mar 29th)
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Charlie’s Angels is a heavenly paradise for inexcusably camp charades. Adapting classic television series into a feature film was becoming a common trend in the early part of this century. But maintaining the aesthetic appeal of its source material is often blurred with the requirement of targeting mass mainstream audiences. Would viewers of the original Charlie’s Angels watch a film continuation? Most likely not. So the legendary (and I use that adjective lightly...) McG decided to go full Hollywood, embracing action spy thrillers that came before, and produced one of the campiest guilty pleasures of all time. Can I describe the plot? Absolutely not. It’s thinner that Diaz’ lip fillers and needless botox. Three “Angels” who privately work for a millionaire are assigned a task in investigating technology giant Red Star. Stuff happens, a predictable plot twist unravels and the booming soundtrack of The Prodigy and Fat Boy Slim illuminate my ears. Let me start by saying I love Charlie’s Angels. I love it! It’s a film I hold very close to my heart, and a crucial element to my childhood. Probably a reasoning for my raging homosexuality, let’s be honest. I mean Barrymore, Diaz and Liu kicking a “creepy thin man” repeatedly wearing tight leather costumes in ‘Matrix’-stylised slow motion whilst working together as a cohesive unit of female empowerment!? Just lay me to rest, now! Give me a slice of that angel cake and let me never lose that heavenly flavour. Yet, the amateur critic inside me just cannot classify this film as “good”. Why? Well, because it’s not. And it’s that ever-growing conflict between biased favouritism and legitimate critiquing that has me torn inside. Firstly, the plot is a mess. To the point where the story is a secondary product to the action set pieces and humorous dance sequences. When talented actors, such as Rockwell, are crucial aspects to this afterthought, it unfortunately wastes their efforts. The frantic editing prevents a natural flow of events, including the extravagant action, that anchors these angels. They are unable to spread their wings and fly. A dire shame considering the undeniable chemistry between the lead actresses, each harnessing a unique personality that allows their characters to connect as a team. Diaz is the ditzy dance queen, shaking her tush on Soul Train. Barrymore is the rebellious punk, sticking her middle finger up to everyone. Liu is the intellectual well-mannered lady, riding horses and piloting space rockets. They each add enough humour to come together seamlessly. Essentially, I live for them. The dialogue is cheesy and contagious, if ridiculously vacuous in subject matter. And the constant use of the same songs, namely “Heaven” and “Smack My B**** Up!”, lacked variety. Despite my internal love for The Prodigy and Fat Boy Slim. As far as guilty pleasures go, Charlie’s Angels is up there for me. It’s poorly directed and woefully written, but I cannot deny my adoration for this campy beast. Unfortunately it doesn’t surpass the ultimate guilty pleasure ‘Lara Croft: Tomb Raider’, even after all these years...
Not the greatest fighters in this besides Lucy Liu. I really only liked the movie cause it was funny, and of course their sexy. That's pretty much it.
Professor Barbenfouillis and five of his colleagues from the Academy of Astronomy travel to the Moon aboard a rocket propelled by a giant cannon. Once on the lunar surface, the bold explorers face the many perils hidden in the caves of the mysterious planet.
After five (or six) years of vanilla-wedded bliss, ordinary suburbanites John and Jane Smith are stuck in a huge rut. Unbeknownst to each other, they are both coolly lethal, highly-paid assassins working for rival organisations. When they discover they're each other's next target, their secret lives collide in a spicy, explosive mix of wicked comedy, pent-up passion, nonstop action and high-tech weaponry.
As a swinging fashion photographer by day and a groovy British superagent by night, Austin Powers is the '60s' most shagadelic spy. But can he stop megalomaniac Dr. Evil after the bald villain freezes himself and unthaws in the '90s? With the help of sexy sidekick Vanessa Kensington, he just might.
When diabolical genius Dr. Evil travels back in time to steal superspy Austin Powers's ‘mojo,’ Austin must return to the swingin' '60s himself - with the help of American agent, Felicity Shagwell - to stop the dastardly plan. Once there, Austin faces off against Dr. Evil's army of minions to try to save the world in his own unbelievably groovy way.
The world's most shagadelic spy continues his fight against Dr. Evil. This time, the diabolical doctor and his clone, Mini-Me, team up with a new foe—'70s kingpin Goldmember. While pursuing the team of villains to stop them from world domination, Austin gets help from his dad and an old girlfriend.
Construction worker Douglas Quaid's obsession with the planet Mars leads him to visit Recall, a company who manufacture memories. Something goes wrong during his memory implant turning Doug's life upside down and even to question what is reality and what isn't.
Led by Woody, Andy's toys live happily in his room until Andy's birthday brings Buzz Lightyear onto the scene. Afraid of losing his place in Andy's heart, Woody plots against Buzz. But when circumstances separate Buzz and Woody from their owner, the duo eventually learns to put aside their differences.
Holly Golightly is an eccentric New York City playgirl determined to marry a Brazilian millionaire. But when young writer Paul Varjak moves into her apartment building, her past threatens to get in their way.
In a near-future Britain, young Alexander DeLarge and his pals get their kicks beating and raping anyone they please. When not destroying the lives of others, Alex swoons to the music of Beethoven. The state, eager to crack down on juvenile crime, gives an incarcerated Alex the option to undergo an invasive procedure that'll rob him of all personal agency. In a time when conscience is a commodity, can Alex change his tune?
Advertising man Roger Thornhill is mistaken for a spy, triggering a deadly cross-country chase.
Two victims of traumatized childhoods become lovers and serial murderers irresponsibly glorified by the mass media.