I actually walked out of the movie when Mr Hyde appeared.  And I never walk out of movies.  But there was and is no conceivable excuse for that shit.

"a recovering alcoholic cop searching for a fabled lost neighborhood in Detroit."

Have none of you seen WKRP in Cincinatti???  Now I feel old.

"So what should we do about it?"
"Round the little guttersnipes up!"

I dunno — Nick was a thinly veiled stand-in for Hammett himself, who was tall, lean, and considered pretty dreamy.  Weirdly, Ashton Kutcher in ten years, a moustache, and a few face punches might look the part — but they'd have to scoop his brains out and replace them with an actor's.

@avclub-cc225865b743ecc91c4743259813f604:disqus

@avclub-21cb1137b6aab4de4328a8c698770071:disqus

Flann O'Brien's the Third Policeman.  I actually think you could make one hell of a movie out of that (no pun intended). 

Maybe the greatest adaptation of a great story I can think of — and I'm not even being facetious — Disney's old cartoon version of Sleepy Hollow.

Substituting Peter Falk as the grandfather/narrator was inspired, though.  But Goldman's kind of a special case, he was a legendary/veteran screenwriter long before the adapted his own material for Princess Bride.

The biggest difference in Clockwork Orange is the missing final chapter.  It was also cut in American editions of the book, but I remember reading that Kubrick was aware of it and preferred to ignore it.

Virtually all of Kubrick's films-from-novels are epically unfaithful, and virtually all the movies are better than the source books.  Probably the most faithful is Clockwork Orange, but that lops off the original ending, a pretty significant change.

Absinthe shooters and licking toads.  Nothing short of that will get me off the couch.

It was (and still is) a thoroughly enjoyable action flick.  But the sequels were so pretentious and overblown and basically awful, it squandered a lot of goodwill. 

Yeah, I'm with you.  Utter but essentially benign lack of interest.

Some beard you turned out to be, Genevieve.

If that "Too Many Mannies!" t-shirt featured a picture of dozens and dozens of smiling, dopey Manny Ramirezes, I would buy it in a heartbeat.

Ignatius J Reilly is also waaaay too thin.  No wonder the cops never catch fat fugitives, their software is all fucked up.

Actually — and I say this as a Winnipegger and a hockey fan — if the Jets played nothing but songs from West Side Story at their home games, they would be approximately 283% more awesome.

One of at *least* four.