By John Anderson
By Nick Schager
By Anna Dimond
By Chris Klimek
By Stephanie Zacharek
By Alan Scherstuhl
By Ciara LaVelle
By Scott Foundas
Framed with smashing style by Norwegian director Harald Zwart, McCool's often feels like a funky '70s action flick souped up for a new era. Tyler is often attended by flashy visual effects, and the camera swoops around like an animal, giving the art of moviemaking a wild zing. It's only a shame that, despite its attempts to be ironic, the movie is literally a commercial for DVD consumption, failing to mention the evil zoning technology programmed into the discs by the powers that be greedy.
Ultimately McCool's boils down to whether or not Tyler represents all things to all men. Oddly, she seems determined here to prove that she is more than just her body... by exploiting her body. This pageant of cheap bumping and grinding will work for many, but this critic also suggests that her entire physical vocabulary could be blown away by one flutter of Emma Thompson's eyelids.
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