Harkins Gateway Pavilions 18

Regardless of its cavemen-acquire-brains plot, The Croods is no more evolved than your average kids' film, boasting modern attitude, animal-sidekick comic relief, familial struggles, and roller coaster action. While rife with contemporary lingo... More »

Regardless of its cavemen-acquire-brains plot, The Croods is no more evolved than your average kids' film, boasting modern attitude, animal-sidekick comic relief, familial struggles, and roller coaster action. While rife with contemporary lingo that makes little sense for a story about a prehistoric clan facing extinction, Kirk DeMicco and Chris Sanders's bouncy CG adventure at least partially offsets its stock formula with passable one-liners and sincere heart. The latter comes from the tense relationship between cro-mag dad Grug (Nicolas Cage), who values survival in dark caves over living in the light, and curious and headstrong daughter Eep (Emma Stone), whose rebelliousness blossoms after meeting creative-thinking, fire-making hunk Guy (Ryan Reynolds). Amid chase sequences set in an Avatar-ish old-Earth of colorful fantasy animals and enormous vegetation, Guy introduces the Croods to inventions like shoes and umbrellas — newfangled ideas that threaten Grug's patriarchal authority and bond with Eep. That these ancient ancestors of ours have superhuman strength and speed is as perplexing as their banter is incessant. Their good-natured tale, however, does sweetly reconfirm that there's life still in the oldest jokes, such as a father's fear of his daughter dating-- or, via a running gag involving Grug and Gran (Cloris Leachman), of a husband's hatred of his mother-in-law. « Less

AD-Audio Description;CC-Closed Caption 9:25 AM, 10:00 AM, 11:05 AM, 1:40 PM, 4:15 PM

AD-Audio Description;CC-Closed Caption;SE-Special Engagement 9:15 AM, 10:45 AM, 12:15 PM, 1:45 PM, 3:15 PM, 4:45 PM, 6:15 PM, 7:45 PM, 9:15 PM, 10:45 PM

Where has Robert Downey Jr. gone? There's no doubt he’s the star of Iron Man 3; he sprints through the picture like a neurotic panther. And yet he's curiously absent, detached in a Zenlike way from the whole affair. The nakedness that defines his... More »

Where has Robert Downey Jr. gone? There's no doubt he’s the star of Iron Man 3; he sprints through the picture like a neurotic panther. And yet he's curiously absent, detached in a Zenlike way from the whole affair. The nakedness that defines his best performances has become, paradoxically, a kind of mask, not unlike the sleek, airbrushed-looking one he wears as the superhero incarnation of cocky kajillionaire Tony Stark. Today, Downey could play Stark in his sleep. The jittery self-doubt, the look-at-me hubris, the Boy Scout cluelessness about women: He's become so proficient in his believability that you can hardly believe a minute of it. Maybe you don't need to believe much in Iron Man 3. This is the first in the franchise to be directed by Shane Black, and only the second picture the prolific action screenwriter has made. (The first was the marvelously nerve-jangling Kiss Kiss Bang Bang, also starring Downey.) On the plus side, Black has a puckish sense of humor, and shows a healthy resistance to the comic-booky self-seriousness of the Batman movies. The villains in Iron Man 3, for example, include the Mandarin, a pointy-bearded sage who’s half Osama bin Laden, half Ming the Merciless. He's played with bug-eyed hamminess by Ben Kingsley, and the movie is spooky, silly, or both whenever he's onscreen. But the big problems with Iron Man 3 are less specific to the movie itself than they are characteristic of the hypermalaise that's infected so many current mega-blockbusters-- too much plot, too much action, too many characters, too many pseudo-feelings. The mechanics of Iron Man 3 are complex and rambunctious, like Keystone Kops, bouncing off one another and ultimately canceling one another out. « Less

AD-Audio Description;CC-Closed Caption 9:50 AM, 11:00 AM, 12:00 PM, 1:10 PM, 2:10 PM, 3:20 PM, 4:20 PM, 5:20 PM, 6:30 PM, 7:30 PM, 8:20 PM, 9:40 PM, 10:40 PM

The good news: Here's a lavish, serious science-fiction picture, one that on occasion transcends big-budget hit-making convention to glance audiences up against grandeur. Joseph Kosinski's Oblivion, based on his own graphic novel, is one of those... More »

The good news: Here's a lavish, serious science-fiction picture, one that on occasion transcends big-budget hit-making convention to glance audiences up against grandeur. Joseph Kosinski's Oblivion, based on his own graphic novel, is one of those futuristic puzzlers whose dramatic energies are most invested in the slow revelation of its own premise. You'll doubt the initial set-up-- it's 2077, and the Earth has been nuked in humanity's defeat of an invading alien force-- the second the hero mentions having recently had his memory wiped and that his wife has been "assigned" to him. Which brings us to Tom Cruise, the not-good news, that plot-moving app producers can download for their blockbusters but is still stuck with the usual bugs. He models sunglasses, races dirt bikes, and runs like a .gif titled "Tom Cruise Running." He's called Jack Harper-- is there a spigot in Hollywood that dispenses action hero names?―and each day he zips down to Earth from his home in the clouds, a Frank Lloyd Wright casserole dish speared atop a Jetsons pole. With the rest of our kind sent off to live on Titan, Harper traverses a ruined U.S. to monitor and repair the patrol drones designed to protect―well, what exactly they're protecting is a third-act revelation you’ll just have to wonder about until Harper finally does so himself. (The Cruise app never thinks more than required.) At its best, as Harper explores a cratered library, Oblivion takes on the immersiveness of video games. Here's your cypher/avatar, picking through a wide-open alien environment, with time given for you to savor the world around you. But then come the twists and explosions. « Less

AD-Audio Description;CC-Closed Caption 9:40 AM, 12:50 PM, 4:10 PM, 7:10 PM, 10:10 PM

Picking up a mere seven years after the previous installment, Scary Movie V features no original cast members, no Wayans brothers producing (they bailed after No. 3) and a new director (first-timer Malcolm D. Lee). It's still terrible. For an... More »

Picking up a mere seven years after the previous installment, Scary Movie V features no original cast members, no Wayans brothers producing (they bailed after No. 3) and a new director (first-timer Malcolm D. Lee). It's still terrible. For an alleged comedy, it's remarkably laugh-free; as insta-parody, it already feels dated (Inception references?). Some observations: I'd wager all the gold from The Italian Job there are more laughs in the Pain & Gain trailer than are to be had in the whole Scary Movie franchise. The appearances of the movie’s guest stars almost perfectly mirrors the descending order of the squandered potential of their prior acting careers: Charlie Sheen, Lindsay Lohan, Molly Shannon, Heather Locklear, Kate Walsh, Jasmine Guy, Darrell Hammond, Katt Williams, Jerry O'Connell. The Black Swan-inspired scene (don’t ask) in which Ashley Tisdale humps a microwave oven (really, don't) is only slightly more embarrassing than the entirety of High School Musical 3: Senior Year. Charlie Sheen calls his cat "Emilio." That was in the first five minutes, and it was the last time in the movie-- or the subsequent three days-- that I've come close to cracking a smile. Because Scary Movie V murdered my capacity to feel joy. « Less

CC-Closed Caption 12:30 PM, 5:40 PM, 11:10 PM

There's a scene in Baz Luhrmann's The Great Gatsby in which Leonardo DiCaprio's hyperrich, super-awkward Jay Gatsby takes it upon himself to redecorate the bachelor pad of his less-prosperous friend, Nick Carraway (Tobey Maguire). Gatsby's old... More »

There's a scene in Baz Luhrmann's The Great Gatsby in which Leonardo DiCaprio's hyperrich, super-awkward Jay Gatsby takes it upon himself to redecorate the bachelor pad of his less-prosperous friend, Nick Carraway (Tobey Maguire). Gatsby's old flame, Daisy Buchanan (Carey Mulligan), is coming to Nick’s for tea. Eager to impress her, Gatsby has brought in boughs draped with explosive white flowers, macaroons in every color of the paintbox, and tiered cakes straight out of Marie Antoinette's court. "You think it's too much?" he asks Nick. Nick offers the polite answer: "I think it's what you want." The Great Gatsby is both too much and what Luhrmann wants, less a movie version of F. Scott Fitzgerald's novel than a movie version of Jay Gatsby himself. It’s polished to a handsome sheen and possesses no class or taste beyond the kind you can buy. And those are the reasons to love it. The performers often look lost, but the movie moves, breathes, and has color on its side. Though Fitzgerald couldn't have known it, he wrote a scene tailor-made for 3-D, the one in which Gatsby rummages through his collection of brilliantly colored silk shirts and tosses one after another toward his lady love. In Luhrmann's vision, they float down around Daisy like polychrome snowflakes. It's all so fake. It should all be so horrible. But really, all Luhrmann has done is build a crazy art deco Taj Mahal to the glory of The Great Gatsby. Like Gatsby, Luhrmann is a faker but not a phony. Fitzgerald knew the difference. Can we see it, too? « Less

AD-Audio Description;CC-Closed Caption;SE-Special Engagement 9:20 AM, 12:40 PM, 4:00 PM, 7:20 PM, 10:55 PM

There's a scene in Baz Luhrmann's The Great Gatsby in which Leonardo DiCaprio's hyperrich, super-awkward Jay Gatsby takes it upon himself to redecorate the bachelor pad of his less-prosperous friend, Nick Carraway (Tobey Maguire). Gatsby's old... More »

There's a scene in Baz Luhrmann's The Great Gatsby in which Leonardo DiCaprio's hyperrich, super-awkward Jay Gatsby takes it upon himself to redecorate the bachelor pad of his less-prosperous friend, Nick Carraway (Tobey Maguire). Gatsby's old flame, Daisy Buchanan (Carey Mulligan), is coming to Nick’s for tea. Eager to impress her, Gatsby has brought in boughs draped with explosive white flowers, macaroons in every color of the paintbox, and tiered cakes straight out of Marie Antoinette's court. "You think it's too much?" he asks Nick. Nick offers the polite answer: "I think it's what you want." The Great Gatsby is both too much and what Luhrmann wants, less a movie version of F. Scott Fitzgerald's novel than a movie version of Jay Gatsby himself. It’s polished to a handsome sheen and possesses no class or taste beyond the kind you can buy. And those are the reasons to love it. The performers often look lost, but the movie moves, breathes, and has color on its side. Though Fitzgerald couldn't have known it, he wrote a scene tailor-made for 3-D, the one in which Gatsby rummages through his collection of brilliantly colored silk shirts and tosses one after another toward his lady love. In Luhrmann's vision, they float down around Daisy like polychrome snowflakes. It's all so fake. It should all be so horrible. But really, all Luhrmann has done is build a crazy art deco Taj Mahal to the glory of The Great Gatsby. Like Gatsby, Luhrmann is a faker but not a phony. Fitzgerald knew the difference. Can we see it, too? « Less

AD-Audio Description;SE-Special Engagement 11:40 AM, 3:00 PM, 6:20 PM, 9:55 PM

It's not enough to call this the rare franchise action movie to bring the goods; it's the even rarer one whose creators seem to understand what the goods even are. Your ticket should come with a fight card: squad versus squad, bruiser versus... More »

It's not enough to call this the rare franchise action movie to bring the goods; it's the even rarer one whose creators seem to understand what the goods even are. Your ticket should come with a fight card: squad versus squad, bruiser versus bruiser, ninja versus ninja, second-string ninja versus ancient ninja training lady, jeep-tank versus tank-jeep, bullets versus throwing stars, everyone versus Walton Goggins, dumb pleasures versus your higher brain function. Ninjas swing and zipline through Himalayan peaks, giving dizzier Spider-Man thrills than The Amazing Spider-Man bothered to. A three-soldier escape from deep in a well is more satisfying-- and abbreviated!-- than Bruce Wayne's ponderous pit-climb last summer. Charming Dwayne Johnson declaims Jay-Z as scripture to pump up his Joes before a mission; he's so commanding that nothing pump-uppable in you is likely to languish un-pumped. In short, if you think it's possible you might have a good time at a picture named G.I. Joe: Retaliation, you will almost certainly have a good time, though it's still dumb as catbutt. The script, from Rhett Reese and Paul Wernick, is touched with absurdist comedy and some of-the-moment wingnuttery. Here's a movie in which gun-toting lugs become convinced the president is an imposter who they have to take out—not really something we should be encouraging so soon after 2016: Obama's America. But director Jon M. Chu comes to dudes-fighting filmmaking from the most welcome of backgrounds: directing dance. When his characters battle, we see the bodies of accomplished physical performers moving together through space, mostly in shots that the eye can actually track. « Less

AD-Audio Description;CC-Closed Caption 2:00 PM, 7:40 PM

In the underdog vein of hip-hop stardom dramas like Hustle & Flow, Get Rich or Die Tryin', and gold standard 8 Mile, co-directors Youssef Delara and Michael D. Olmos's variation on the too-familiar subgenre (the rising inner-city superstar here... More »

In the underdog vein of hip-hop stardom dramas like Hustle & Flow, Get Rich or Die Tryin', and gold standard 8 Mile, co-directors Youssef Delara and Michael D. Olmos's variation on the too-familiar subgenre (the rising inner-city superstar here is a Latina tomboy) is more heartfelt, humanistic, and entertaining than such a clichéd showbiz cautionary tale has any right to be. Or maybe those superlatives should be spit about breakout lead Gina Rodriguez, a two-fisted knockout as streetwise L.A. wunderkind Majo "Filly Brown" Tonorio, whose angriest sociopolitical rhymes have been borrowed wholesale from an uneasy inspiration: "My moms is up in Chino on a 10 count," Majo admits to her new loverboy, DJ, just before her image is sexed up by a small-time producer and scooped up by a bigger label's thuggy operators. It’s all in the service of getting her manipulative junkie madre (the late norte–a singer Jenni Rivera) out of the slammer, and helping both her impressionable younger hermana and struggling contractor pops (Lou Diamond Phillips, sharing screen time with his Stand and Deliver foil Edward James Olmos as Majo's lawyer). Ain't nothing new in this game, but even if selling out and "looking the part you're not" are derivative beats, with this cast they still pound. « Less

6:10 PM, 8:40 PM

AD-Audio Description;SE-Special Engagement 10:00 AM, 11:30 AM, 1:00 PM, 2:30 PM, 4:00 PM, 5:30 PM, 7:00 PM, 8:30 PM, 10:00 PM

With animated kiddie product as generically sugary and dim-witted as this-- the directorial debut of Despicable Me storyboard artist Callan Brunker-- parents should prep a cost-benefit analysis including (a) the two-hour price of a babysitter,... More »

With animated kiddie product as generically sugary and dim-witted as this-- the directorial debut of Despicable Me storyboard artist Callan Brunker-- parents should prep a cost-benefit analysis including (a) the two-hour price of a babysitter, (b) the toxifying effects of exposing children to consumer waste, and (c) whether they're forced to sit through it, too. "Turn off your brain and hang on," warns Kira Supernova (voiced by Sarah Jessica Parker) as she and her nerdy scientist hubby Gary (Rob Corddry)-- noseless, blue humanoids from a planet bafflingly more Jetsons-futuristic than extraterrestrial—rocket-race to save their son. Their kid, in turn, has foolishly run after his barrel-chested, celeb-astronaut uncle Scorch (Brendan Fraser), captured by a villainous general (William Shatner) on the dangerous "Dark Planet" we call home. We're supposed to wonder, "Will Gary ever overcome his timidity and become an intergalactic hero to his family and dismissive bro?" Between the frequent cribbing of character designs (The Smurfs, Toy Story) and hoary catchphrases (Titanic, The Warriors), to its unfunny, dated references (Simon Cowell? ZZ Top?!) and pointless excuses for 3-D gimmickry (food fights, paddleballs), Escape From Planet Earth makes a compelling case for our disposable culture to finally get wiped out by malevolent aliens. « Less

CC-Closed Caption 11:10 AM, 1:30 PM, 3:50 PM

A likable hagiography as nuanced as a plaque at the Cooperstown Hall of Fame, Brian Helgeland's Jackie Robinson bio 42 finds a politic solution to the challenge Quentin Tarantino faced last year with Django Unchained: How to craft a... More »

A likable hagiography as nuanced as a plaque at the Cooperstown Hall of Fame, Brian Helgeland's Jackie Robinson bio 42 finds a politic solution to the challenge Quentin Tarantino faced last year with Django Unchained: How to craft a crowd-pleasing multiplex period piece whose villain is, essentially, "all white people"? Helgeland solves this by—to flip a racist phrase of the day—showing us that Brooklyn Dodgers GM Branch Rickey (a phlegmatic Harrison Ford) is one of the good ones, a white guy who transcended his upbringing to become a credit to his race. In the first half, the big moments of drift past like parade floats: well-crafted, incidentally arresting, but not strung together into a dramatic narrative. Things pick up the closer Robinson gets to Ebbets Field—here a video-game recreation that never quite fools the eye. In the majors, we have a story, one that grows more and more compelling right up until the climax's ridiculously protracted slow-mo baserunning. Some Dodgers revolt against Robinson's arrival, pitchers aim for his face, and a Philadelphia coach shouts "You don't belong here! Get that through your thick monkey skull!" A dusty intimacy distinguishes the baseball scenes, which are excellent, if abbreviated. Robinson's duels with pitchers are especially involving, both at the plate and on base, where he harrows the bastards like Bugs Bunny might Elmer Fudd. Chadwick Boseman (playing Robinson) mostly manages to play a flesh-and-blood man despite 42's attempts to present him as a statue just unveiled. Movingly, as Robinson suffers the white world's abuse, Boseman's eyes moisten, redden, and finally seem to scab over with anger and hurt. « Less

AD-Audio Description;CC-Closed Caption 9:20 AM, 12:20 PM, 3:30 PM, 6:40 PM, 9:45 PM

Recently, African-American-directed relationship movies have hewed toward either incongruous absurdity (Think Like a Man), overt sentimentality (Jumping the Broom), or, in Tyler Perry's work, both. Long gone feel the days of complex films like... More »

Recently, African-American-directed relationship movies have hewed toward either incongruous absurdity (Think Like a Man), overt sentimentality (Jumping the Broom), or, in Tyler Perry's work, both. Long gone feel the days of complex films like Two Can Play That Game, Mark Brown's modern screwball comedy that provided hilarity alongside a clear-eyed critique of romantic battle. Writer-director Tina Gordon Chism's Peeples lacks the energy of Two Can Play That Game, but like that picture it manages to deliver farce without compromising realism. Craig Robinson (The Office) stars as Wade Walker, a musician who shows up uninvited at his girlfriend’s parents' house for the weekend, planning to win the approval of her father, Virgil (David Alan Grier), and propose. (Kerry Washington plays the betrothed-to-be.) Unfortunately, Wade hardly fits in with what he terms Virgil's "chocolate Kennedys" lifestyle, and the expected sparks get to flying. Peeples finds effective comedy exploring secrets underneath the familial "perfection" Virgil assiduously cultivates, via his closeted lesbian daughter (Kali Hawk) and thieving son, Simon (Tyler James Williams), a nerd who thinks he must establish thuggish bona fides, and insists on being called "Sy." However, physical comedy set pieces, like an elaborate fraternity dance Virgil performs, feel uninspired. Malcolm Barrett is given a plum role as Wade’s wacky sidekick, but fails to knock it out of the park as Mike Epps or Anthony Anderson would have once done. Yet while she doesn't quite achieve the screwball zaniness she strives for, Chism deserves commendation for crafting a farcical work that feels like it concerns real characters. « Less

AD-Audio Description;CC-Closed Caption;SE-Special Engagement 9:50 AM, 12:20 PM, 2:50 PM, 5:15 PM, 6:50 PM, 7:50 PM, 9:20 PM, 10:20 PM

Doesn't America promise riches and luxury to people who deserve it? Daniel Lugo-- the lead in Michael Bay's neon-noir ode to Miami, muscle tone, and the modern American dream-- believes so, but is stuck as an underpaid personal trainer at Miami... More »

Doesn't America promise riches and luxury to people who deserve it? Daniel Lugo-- the lead in Michael Bay's neon-noir ode to Miami, muscle tone, and the modern American dream-- believes so, but is stuck as an underpaid personal trainer at Miami Lakes' Sun Gym, where he boosts the confidence of customers far less chiseled than he and dreams of a better (read: richer) life. So, together with some muscle-bound accomplices, Lugo plots to kidnap his rich and ever-sneering Colombian client Victor Kershaw (Tony Shalhoub) and torture him until he gives up everything he owns: his swanky mansion, successful deli, bright orange speedboat, the works. Bay's film is based on, and mostly faithful to, a true story penned by Pete Collins for the Miami New Times in late 1999. The Sun Gym Gang isn't made up of professional mobsters. They’re musclebound egotists with a sense of importance more inflated than their steroid-pumped pecs, and Bay wastes no opportunity for laughs at their bungling. Dressed in military fatigues, they show up at Kershaw's home expecting to catch him alone; he's hosting a Seder. Though this story needs no embellishment, Bay can't help himself. He adds wild shoot-outs, slow-mo effects, Instagram-esque freeze-frames, and B-movie-style gore. (Those who remember the Sun Gym Gang's murdered victims probably won't appreciate seeing one of their heads explode like a pumpkin beneath a falling barbell weight.) When the story crashes into a too-perfect ending, it's because Bay was led astray by the same things that got the Sun Gym Gang into this mess in the first place: superficiality, ambition, and the belief that reality just isn't good enough. « Less

AD-Audio Description;CC-Closed Caption 10:50 AM, 2:05 PM, 5:10 PM, 8:15 PM, 11:00 PM

Where has Robert Downey Jr. gone? There's no doubt he’s the star of Iron Man 3; he sprints through the picture like a neurotic panther. And yet he's curiously absent, detached in a Zenlike way from the whole affair. The nakedness that defines his... More »

Where has Robert Downey Jr. gone? There's no doubt he’s the star of Iron Man 3; he sprints through the picture like a neurotic panther. And yet he's curiously absent, detached in a Zenlike way from the whole affair. The nakedness that defines his best performances has become, paradoxically, a kind of mask, not unlike the sleek, airbrushed-looking one he wears as the superhero incarnation of cocky kajillionaire Tony Stark. Today, Downey could play Stark in his sleep. The jittery self-doubt, the look-at-me hubris, the Boy Scout cluelessness about women: He's become so proficient in his believability that you can hardly believe a minute of it. Maybe you don't need to believe much in Iron Man 3. This is the first in the franchise to be directed by Shane Black, and only the second picture the prolific action screenwriter has made. (The first was the marvelously nerve-jangling Kiss Kiss Bang Bang, also starring Downey.) On the plus side, Black has a puckish sense of humor, and shows a healthy resistance to the comic-booky self-seriousness of the Batman movies. The villains in Iron Man 3, for example, include the Mandarin, a pointy-bearded sage who’s half Osama bin Laden, half Ming the Merciless. He's played with bug-eyed hamminess by Ben Kingsley, and the movie is spooky, silly, or both whenever he's onscreen. But the big problems with Iron Man 3 are less specific to the movie itself than they are characteristic of the hypermalaise that's infected so many current mega-blockbusters-- too much plot, too much action, too many characters, too many pseudo-feelings. The mechanics of Iron Man 3 are complex and rambunctious, like Keystone Kops, bouncing off one another and ultimately canceling one another out. « Less

AD-Audio Description;SE-Special Engagement 9:30 AM, 12:40 PM, 2:40 PM, 3:50 PM, 7:00 PM, 8:00 PM, 10:10 PM

The first of this year's dueling Die Hard in the White House opuses (to be followed in June by Roland "Independence Day" Emmerich's White House Down) begins with a slo-mo Old Glory and the first horns and snare drums of composer Trevor Morris's... More »

The first of this year's dueling Die Hard in the White House opuses (to be followed in June by Roland "Independence Day" Emmerich's White House Down) begins with a slo-mo Old Glory and the first horns and snare drums of composer Trevor Morris's John-Williams-on-steroids score—and, well, things get a lot more "America! Fuck yeah!" from there. Directed at a jingoistic fever pitch by Training Day's Antoine Fuqua, Olympus Has Fallen quickly hurtles through the bare minimum of exposition—a square-jawed, newly widowed POTUS (Aaron Eckhart); a brooding ex–Secret Service hotshot (Gerard Butler) who blames himself for the First Lady's death-- before unleashing a small army of North Korean baddies on Pennsylvania Avenue's most desirable address. What follows is an all-you-can-eat buffet of shlock, from the retro, Robocop-era visual effects to the Delta Force–worthy parade of Oscar winners and nominees in peril (Secretary of State Melissa Leo, Speaker of the House Morgan Freeman, Secret Service Director Angela Bassett, Army Chief of Staff Robert Forster) to the utterly shameless 9/11 imagery (including Beltway tourists crushed by chunks of an imploding Washington Monument). A Red Dawn for the Tea Party era, Olympus Has Fallen is pretty ridiculously entertaining-- or at least entertainingly ridiculous-- for long stretches, dulled only by the realization that there are many parts of the country where this will play as less than total farce. « Less

AD-Audio Description;CC-Closed Caption 11:05 AM, 4:45 PM

SE-Special Engagement 10:30 PM