mustinvestigate

There’s something about a lot of early-90s films I can’t quite define, part 80s hangover, part unearned smugness mixed with genuine hope and celebration of human connectedness, but without much individual character. It’s an era I sort of missed, as that’s when my family moved to East Bumperfuck, the parents split up for a while, and culture was whatever came in on the two channels the aerial could pick up. Gen X was something happening in Newsweek that I couldn’t wait to be a teenager and join in on. All this to say, I go into these films expecting to feel like the prodigal son, not an alien anthropologist.



Like, Chaplin. ( Early Hollywood stuff is inherently great... )

So…yeah. An enjoyable film, but it made me yell at the screen.

And sort of ship Charlie and Douglas Fairbanks. Their love needs no stunt doubles!