All credit to “Barbie” and “Oppenheimer,” an odd couple if ever I saw one, for saving the summer box office, but the feast of moviegoing cannot last forever. Famine awaits. Look at the lineup that looms ahead: more “Trolls,” more “PAW Patrol,” yet more “Hunger Games,” a third shot of “The Equalizer” and of “My Big Fat Greek Wedding,” and a fourth dose of “The Expendables,” who are evidently not. Already in cinemas is “Meg 2: The Trench,” a shark-infested swamp of joylessness. Much of it takes place on the ocean floor, in a confounding murk; the one bright patch is the opening scene, which is set sixty-five million years ago, around the time of Henry Kissinger’s tenth birthday.
Now we have Neill Blomkamp’s “Gran Turismo.” The title refers to the video game, familiar to the bleary eyes of PlayStation devotees, which allows the user to relish all the thrills—and, in painless form, the spills—of high-speed driving without the shame of environmental pollution or the torment of bickering about a parking spot. The movie’s hero is Jann Mardenborough (Archie Madekwe), a shy youth from Cardiff, the capital of Wales, who pledges himself, with priestly zeal, to the practice of Gran Turismo. When the chance arrives to test his talents in an actual car, on a tangible racetrack, with rivals hurtling around him, he doesn’t hesitate. One moment he’s sitting in his bedroom in Cardiff; the next he’s on a private jet to Vienna. Talk about social mobility.
この記事は The New Yorker の August 28, 2023 版に掲載されています。
7 日間の Magzter GOLD 無料トライアルを開始して、何千もの厳選されたプレミアム ストーリー、9,000 以上の雑誌や新聞にアクセスしてください。
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この記事は The New Yorker の August 28, 2023 版に掲載されています。
7 日間の Magzter GOLD 無料トライアルを開始して、何千もの厳選されたプレミアム ストーリー、9,000 以上の雑誌や新聞にアクセスしてください。
すでに購読者です? サインイン
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Kyungha-ya. That was the entirety of Inseon’s message: my name.
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The pro-life movement’ new playbook.
President for Sale - A survey of today's political ads.
On a mid-October Sunday not long ago sun high, wind cool-I was in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, for a book festival, and I took a stroll. There were few people on the streets-like the population of a lot of capital cities, Harrisburg's swells on weekdays with lawyers and lobbyists and legislative staffers, and dwindles on the weekends. But, on the façades of small businesses and in the doorways of private homes, I could see evidence of political activity. Across from the sparkling Susquehanna River, there was a row of Democratic lawn signs: Malcolm Kenyatta for auditor general, Bob Casey for U.S. Senate, and, most important, in white letters atop a periwinkle not unlike that of the sky, Kamala Harris for President.
