The Shootist

There are so many movies about old gunslingers that it seems like a contradiction: you wouldn’t expect that many tales of old gunslingers, because you figure not too many of them make it to be old, given the nature of their pursuits. Yet, here’s another one, featuring that oldest of old pistol packers, John Wayne, who is perfectly believable as a veteran of the range who is dying of cancer. (He would succumb to the disease in real life not long afterwards.) Lauren Bacall is a bit frosty as the widow who provides the outlaw with room and board and a bit of sympathy. Able support comes from another veteran of the genre, James Stewart, in a small but meaningful role as a doctor. Meanwhile, the real star of the film may be Harry Morgan, who is an absolute hoot as the local lawman who gives Wayne’s character a regular earful. The weak link here may be Ron Howard as the impressionable youth who takes a shine to the old gunslinger; let’s say it’s a good thing that directing worked out for him. This movie was late-period Western storytelling, both in when it came out (1976) and in setting (1901 in Carson City, well after the frontier had been officially closed). That gives the production an interesting feel, one that conveys a sense of change—of, indeed, things passing away—more so than what you get in the traditional oater full of horses, wide open spaces, and black and white morality. Nevertheless, the film still delivers its share of shootouts, old-time Americana, and the presence of one of the genre’s legends—still delivering the goods even at the end of the ride. As ways to go go, this one hits the target. 

Sabrina

Some actors are actors, and others are movie stars. This movie features lead actors who were most emphatically movie stars. Longtime favorite Humphrey Bogart and more recent obsession Audrey Hepburn bring their legendary, luminous presences to this delightful story, which features a ton of charm and wit and just the right amount of romantic sentiment. William Holden—no slouch himself in the movie star department —provides terrific support here, while Billy Wilder brings his usual expertise to both the script and the director’s chair. Mostly though, this story shines because the two leads just bring something extra special to their roles. It’s the kind of thing that Hollywood used to deliver routinely—indeed that it was built upon—and it is ever so refreshing to turn back the clock and experience it once more. A movie that everyone can fall in love with—whether you live in the big house or over the garage. 

Send Help

The viewer is immediately confronted with a question by this movie: was the casting of Rachel McAdams in the lead role a mistake? The issue arises from the fact that her character, Linda, is presented from the start as a nebbish and unattractive creature—which is a difficult sell when McAdams, who has famously portrayed hotties in prominent roles, is the creature in question. Wouldn’t it have made more sense to cast an actual, non-physically perfect actress in the role, for some legitimacy? The issue is only given more weight by the film’s early scenes, which indulge in any number of clichés about office politics and interpersonal dynamics. Perhaps dolling up—or down, as it were—a standard beauty to portray a fugly was just another example of moviemaking laziness. Or so one might think. As the story goes on, though, it becomes clear that Linda straddling the line between attractive and unattractive is a core component of the narrative. You’re never quite certain who the villain really is here, until the unwinding of the plot eventually leaves no doubt. Before you get to that point, the story delivers plenty of entertainment, including thrills, scares and more than a few outright laughs along the way. By the end, you can appreciate the importance of—as the lady herself would tell you—strategy and planning. That’s what went into this work, and the early questions are all part of the plan. Not a bad trip, and worth the time you spend there. 

Showgirls

No, I checked—Dante (the medieval poet) does not have a script credit here, but this sure is a vision of Hell. One can hardly imagine what would drive people to live the lives depicted in this movie, but I have little doubt that, to some extent, this story is an accurate representation of some terrible corner of society. In a certain way, Elizabeth Berkeley’s Nomi represents a typical American story: a stupid, unstable, unpleasant and ignorant person who somehow blunders her way through life achieving a modicum of success—or at least something other than complete failure—while somehow barely avoiding a fatal disaster. That results in a tale that delivers equal parts humor and horror. One can say the same for the acting performances herein, which are uneven to say the least. Regarding the musical dance numbers, I must admit that I am at a severe disadvantage, as dancing in pretty much all forms has always been a mystery to me. These pieces could be brilliant, or they could be laughably bad—I have no way of knowing. Overall, I think if you keep the most open of minds and maybe you squint really hard, you can decide that there is at least some amount of entertainment value here—hence the fact that this roundly panned flick has gained a bit of reputation rehabilitation over the years—but, plainly, this is an objectively bad movie. Only let this one take the stage if you’re in a truly indulgent mood. Otherwise, cover it up and keep it that way. 

Song Sung Blue

There’s a reason why jukebox musicals are so popular on Broadway lately. You take a roster of songs that are proven popular and build a narrative around them and you have a show that will please a crowd. The value of such a production, beyond the nuts and bolts of the music’s appeal, thus boils down to what the story has to say. In this case, the message here that comes through loud and clear is that, while there may be an overclass of famous people who receive the lion’s share of the attention and affection in this world, there are all sorts of other people—obscure and unknown and often overlooked—for whom we should be rooting just as hard. Maybe even more so. The characters of Mike and Claire are so authentic and worthy of compassion that it’s hard to imagine anyone not feeling a desperate desire to see them succeed. That’s why the story’s ups and downs have such a profound impact, almost to the point that they nearly overwhelm the viewer’s power to endure them (even if the events depicted run right up to the brink of believability). Ultimately, though, the tale achieves a balance that is more redemptive than discouraging. And, if nothing else, you get to hear some amazing music. I’m a believer, at least enough to recommend this one. 

Shane

Kudos to the set designer. It’s been 44 years since I visited the Tetons, yet the range that serves as the backdrop for this story is immediately and unmistakably recognizable. The grand scale of the Jackson Hole valley gives epic dimensions to a story that is about the intersection of the many different forces that shaped the west, yet it is also a tale of the personal and intimate. There is a slow build to the plot throughout as Alan Ladd's title character forges his relationships with each member of his host family, while at the same time the overarching theme—homesteaders versus ranchers—works its inevitable way towards the grave consequences that only Shane himself can resolve. The elements of friendship, subtle forbidden romance, and hero worship blend into a strong mix that makes the movie’s climax into a high stakes and evocative affair (not to mention coming to a close that prefigures Unforgiven by four decades). The leads —Ladd, Jean Arthur and Van Heflin—all give terrific performances (though Brandon De Wilde as the kid is, frankly, a little weird), and a young Jack Palance does a memorable turn in a small but important supporting role. The mix all comes together to deliver a viewing experience that runs from inviting to engaging to downright gripping in the end. Now that’s some straight shootin’.

Sinners

There’s an old saying: a point in every direction is no point at all. I heard that saying echoing in my mind as I watched this film. I’m not really sure what this movie wants to be. A horror show? A study of race relations? An ode to music? A period piece? Crime drama? Yes, it’s all those things, but trying to do too much can make a muddle. So we have here, to a minor extent, though to be fair the story at its core never loses coherence; you don’t get lost in this narrative. There is one other problem: the gimmick of having Michael B. Jordan play dual roles means that it can be difficult to tell if you’re watching the character Smoke or Stack in crucial moments. Having said all that, there’s much to admire here, too. The performances are splendid all around, and the cinematography is absolutely gorgeous throughout. And most of the music is wonderful, too, though occasionally the attempts at genre cross-pollination detract rather than add to the tableau. So certainly, this is a fine movie and worthy of praise—I just wish people would let it rest at that, rather than go overboard and declare it to be the greatest thing that ever happened in the history of movies, if not humanity. When we commit that sin, it really does make one want to sing the blues. 

Spinal Tap II: The End Continues

The recursiveness may be the most striking aspect of this production. While parodying the idea of it not necessarily being a good idea for an over- the-hill band to do a reunion concert, these guys make a movie … as an over the hill group of comedians getting back together to do a sequel. Hmm. The good news is, this outing is not the kind of disaster that inevitably follows the fictional rockers around … but it isn’t exactly a triumph reminiscent of the original movie, either. There are good bits in here, mostly during scenes where the participants offer some fresh gags and wry remarks rather than rehashes of the first film’s notes. That’s a fine line, of course; they couldn’t possibly have made this sequel without referring back to at least some of the earlier material, so they can hardly be blamed for echoing previous jokes. Still, the viewer can help but get the sense that the principal creators didn’t quite trust their own abilities to really let loose and come up with entirely fresh pieces of funny. Maybe they were just tired; if nothing else, this flick shows the impact of age catching up to you. That condition especially comes through in the musical performances, which are uneven throughout. More encouraging is the support the core group gets from the guest stars, Paul McCartney and Sir Elton John in particular; both are quite funny in their cameos. All together, this work is something short of what one might have expected or hoped for, but the movie does deliver enough new laughs and nostalgic moments that it certainly isn’t anything to be ashamed of. These banshees still live, and they do (sorta) live well. 

Superman (2025)

Sometimes, it helps to be old. Just not this time. If you’ve been around a while, you’ve seen so many iterations of this character that you can’t expect anything particularly new in yet another outing for the Man of Steel. So going in, if you’re not a child, expectations for this flick are low. That actually works to this pic's advantage, as it means that, if nothing is really screwed up, the odds turn heavily in the movie’s favor. And that’s mostly how it works out here. There are enough fresh elements in this presentation—most notably, the expanded context of Supe's story, including some decent supporting work from some slightly off-brand heroes—that even the weariest viewer will get a few kicks out of these proceedings. The film does include a few missteps—today’s Lois is not quite all that, and there’s a notable bit of condescension in the depiction of the Kents as flyover yokels—but ultimately, the story gets back to the core of the title character’s appeal: his choice to be one of us, not one above us. That rap has played well for almost a century now and it never really gets old…even if those of us who have seen it all before keep putting on the years. Oh, yeah, and the dog is fun, too. 

The Substance

There are a lot of different dimensions to the question of what this movie is, is all about, and whether or not it succeeds, either overall or on its own terms. Just for starters, the story asks for a fairly massive amount of suspension of disbelief, and not just as regards the tale's science/horror elements. For instance, how is it even possible that Elizabeth—who is still viable as of the beginning of the story—winds up so isolated and alone that the action could even have plausibility? I mean, even has-beens tend to have hangers-on long after their expiration dates. Also, are the generic settings, elements and trappings of the story meant to convey the kind of stripped down aesthetic of a stage play, or does the lack of a more fleshed-out context simply reflect laxity, if not outright laziness, on the part of the screenwriter? Finally, the overarching message seems to be a muddle; the film wants to have its chocolate mousse cake and eat it too. To wit: is the sexism and emphasis on youth and beauty presented as the catalyst for Elizabeth's actions truly an example of villainy, as the script wants to suggest (if not insist upon)? How is that so, given the objective reality presented in Sue’s side of the story, where standard measures of beauty, youth, vigor and attractiveness all translate into success and positive attainment? The whole tableau seems highly debatable, even as the story appears to be very pointedly in favor of a specific, feminist critique of Hollywood in particular and the world in general. So did the filmmakers create a movie to be puzzled over, or did they fail to clearly convey their message? It’s hard to know. What is for certain is that this flick is arresting in its concepts and visuals—particularly in its lack of squeamishness about showing the viewer all of its gory details. It can be hard to look at and impossible to look away from at the same time. An enigmatic work, for sure, with a qualified PURR, but substantial and absolutely worth viewing, especially if it gets you thinking about all of the various elements this movie has on its mind. 

Some Like It Hot

A confession: I’ve never found much humor in the cross-dressing trope. Not even when Monty Python did such bits—and they used to do them constantly—did I ever find them to be particularly funny. So this movie seemingly had a strike against it going in, at least from my perspective. And then it turns out...yeah, it’s pretty much what I expected. I’m not saying this film is bad; there’s enough entertainment herein to make it worth a look, and it has peak Marilyn Monroe in a featured role, which is worth way more than just a look. But outside the spectacle of Tony Curtis and Jack Lemmon dressed as chicks, and some decent bits of gangland joking in the running-from-mobsters subplot, there isn’t nearly enough that’s truly funny in this film. Not to mention that it runs too long and drags towards the end. Overall, and especially regarding its hook, a lot of this flick just left me…wait for it…cold. Oh, well—not every classic is equally classic. 

The Sound of Music

An ode to beauty, both musical and visual. From the very first shots this movie is gorgeous to look at, and impressive visuals fill the screen throughout, while the music and songs present a lovely tableau that provides delight and warmth throughout. Julie Andrews and Christopher Plummer are splendid in their roles, as are the children, even if their transformations play a little too quick and easy (especially so with the Captain, who goes from hardass to softie in a relative blink). But that’s a quibble. Mostly, this story hits all the right notes, up to and including a touch of drama and derring-do at the climax. Even though it runs almost three hours this movie never drags; you stay engaged and entertained all the way to the end. No wonder this is perennially popular. You can do a lot worse than to include this one among your favorite things.

Shin Godzilla

The real monster all along was … bureaucracy? This movie may be a modern, native reboot of the classic Kaiju story, but it has the political landscape on its mind as much as it does giant lizards. A great deal of the running time contains ruminations about the state of Japans state—the filmmakers are not exactly thrilled with it—as well as that country’s relationship with its American patrons. There’s so much in here about the political situation that the star of the show, Gojira/Godzilla, spends a lot of the time either inactive or not even on the screen. That’s a complaint, but it must also be said that, when the moment comes for the damage to be done, the sequence contains some eye popping visuals—the rampages are very well done, and some of the shots of the big guy within the Tokyo skyline are almost downright artful. The movie is all in Japanese, so it’s difficult to judge if the key players are good actors or if they’re making their own disaster scenes. No matter—the presentation here, though a bit too talky and not quite stompy enough,  still delivers an adequate amount of entertainment for monster movie fans. It may not be an eleven year old boy’s dream film, but it will do.

Sherlock Holmes

Trying to make fiction's foremost intellectual into an action hero seems to entirely miss the point. A large part of Holmes’ appeal comes from his ability to fight crime with his mind, not so much with his fists or a weapon. Here, the bits where Holmes describes and acts upon his deductive reasoning come across as unconvincing. Perhaps that’s a product of Robert Downey Jr. playing the title character; though he’s a fine actor, Downey simply doesn’t look the part of the famously tall and angular sleuth. In fact, Jude Law as the long suffering—and somewhat whiny—Watson is also miscast; if the actors had traded roles, the whole movie might have worked better. The storyline, about occult murders and other assorted hoohah, is notable mostly for the presence of Mark Strong hamming it up as a supposedly supernaturally-inclined peer of the realm who comes across as a cheap Dracula knockoff. The presence of Rachel McAdams as Irene Adler provided something nice to look at, but she too is unconvincing in her role. Finally, director Guy Richie offers some good visuals—the depiction of Victorian London looks spot on—but does so in a way that suggests a strong affinity for style over substance, or over anything else for that matter. It all comes across as something of a mess: a movie with poor casting, a story that really isn’t all that interesting, and a production team that simply didn’t understand the very nature of Holmes and his appeal. I offer these people this clue: don’t do this sort of thing.

Sherlock Holmes and the Secret Weapon

It’s not exactly canon, as they say, but that’s hardly surprising when you lift Holmes out of Victorian times and place him in the midst of Britain’s World War II struggle. The story here is a bunch of humbug about trying to protect a scientist and the weapon he has developed—a storyline with particular contemporaneous interest, though one that does not entirely match the typical, unusual nature of the great man's preferred cases. The movie often fails to live up to the promise of an authentic Holmes experience; an early scene depicting a test of the doohickey shows a laughably obvious desert landscape supposedly substituting for England’s Salisbury plain, and there are other production stumbles. Nevertheless, the movie does move at a quick and entertaining pace, and there remains enough of the super sleuth's trademark traits in Basil Rathbone's version of the character—the deductive skill, the facility with disguises, the confidence bordering on arrogance—that fans can feel an affinity for the classic embodiment of one of fiction's greatest personas. The only real regret with this flick is a lack of essential Britishness; though everyone speaks with a British accent, the atmosphere of the story never really conveys that sense of Holmes’s home country, which is so very much a part of the appeal of Conan Doyle’s creation. Still, for a film that was made to be an almost throwaway, Saturday afternoon matinee feature—the best time to watch this one is either on a lazy weekend morning or late at night—it provides just enough entertainment value in its brief running time to work as a light and casual watch. It’s no mystery: if Sherlock Holmes is on the case, you’re going to have a pretty good time.

Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs

For what is supposed to be “the greatest animated film of all time,” it sure does have a lot of flaws. Many of the songs aren’t exactly toe tappers; indeed, for every “Heigh-Ho,” there are several insipid numbers with the title character singing about nonsense. And indeed, Snow herself is one of the weak spots; frankly, she’s kind of a dipshit. More problematic still are several of the dwarf sequences, which tend to run long in the service of generating a lot of slapstick but serve little to advance the story. The queen’s sequences, in contrast, are tight and move the plot along. And finally, a great deal of the story is told through onscreen exposition; we jump ahead via title cards where a simple explanatory scene would have done better. So why then does this movie merit such respect? It must be remembered that a great deal of what happens on screen here was original innovation; many of the techniques of animation and characterization may have had their debuts in earlier Disney shorts, but they came to full flower—and were viewed by the broadest audience in this, the first feature length animation. It is still a wonder to watch the artistry that went into this work—character representation and movement, rich background art, impressive visual effects—and appreciate the immense talent of those who made this creation possible. Some of this tale may seem to today’s audience to be hopelessly dated, but it is still a monumental achievement in motion picture history. One final interesting note, that also touches on the difference between today and yesteryear: unlike many of today’s oh-so-carefully ethnically balanced endeavors, in the service of (depending upon your perspective) diversity and equality or indentitarianism, this movie is squarely the product of a Eurocentric and decidedly uniform cultural viewpoint—and, from this viewer's vantage point, it’s much better for that singular frame of mind. The vision remains focused and true to itself, while not trying to serve any greater agenda. The success here strongly suggests that, instead of trying to shoehorn a DEI checklist into every production, maybe it would be better to just let particular works have their own focus, without trying to serve a societal master plan, without forcing everyone to toe a sociopolitical line. Just a thought. But this movie is now a relic from another time and place, and perhaps there really is no going back. At least we still have this work, through which we can occasionally visit that foreign land ... and witness some brilliant artistry in the process. Happily ever after indeed.

Soul

Depending upon who you are, and how you feel about your life, some of this story may hit a little too close to home. In a more general view, a lot of this movie may be difficult for viewers to get traction with, as a sizable part of the concept here involves characters who are abstractions, and abstraction is notoriously difficult for many people to relate to. Or perhaps that’s just this viewer trying to grasp at reasons why this film stayed somewhat at arm’s length from him, despite there being plenty of relatable emotional content herein. Maybe it’s due to the fact that I personally have never really appreciated jazz that this flick fails to completely crack my exterior. What also doesn’t help is the ending—it reeks of falsity; it seems like a decision was made to tack on a final note that was added on in order to make the ending “happier,” even though the honest ending would not have been all that sad, and is even hinted at in the earlier dialogue. I don’t know; there’s a lot of plus and minus here, all mixed up—but I’m conscious enough of my own personal failings here that I will give this work a pass, count it as a guarded MEOW, and leave it at that. Other than that, you’ll have to find this work's purpose for yourself.

The Secret of NIMH

Why did every movie circa ’82 have to have Dom DeLuise in it? This movie is celebrated as director Don Bluth's magnum effort to preserve the classic animation style of his former employer—specifically, the ultra-realistic style of Disney films from the studio's original burst of cinematic success in the prewar era. In terms of this work's visuals, Bluth largely succeeded. Everything looks fantastic here, and the drawings provide the sort of real-world setting that grounds an animated story and gives the audience a sharper sense of the story’s truth. Unfortunately, movies are composed of not just visuals but of characters and narrative, too. With the former, the DeLuise question is germane. The unfunny comic's presence as the crow Jonathan indicates Bluth's devotion to old (and, indeed, current) Disney standards to a fault, by including a comic relief persona whose only purpose seems to be to bring advancement of the story to a grinding, grating halt. It is a fault that is shared by other actors as well; many of the characters are simply played too broadly. The plot moves better when the focus remains more closely on Mrs. Brimsby and the rats of NIMH; there, you have an actual interesting storyline to pay attention to. But even there, the scenes featuring the heroine and her children are too treacly for my taste. Speaking of which, the closing song, with vocals by profoundly ’70s lounge lizard Paul Williams, is a truly ghastly number, the kind of sickly sweet tune that you can’t believe exists as anything other than a parody of an animated movie’s closing song. Lastly, it’s worth mentioning that some of the more outlandish story elements come across as downright ridiculous given the mostly prosaic setting of the tale; it’s difficult to buy in on the magical doings, much of which occur without any context. Ultimately, that’s a judgment that holds true throughout on this film: terrific visuals and a decent story that are let down by an oddly off-kilter tone that pervades all the way through. It’s no wonder, then, that a film that had such promise, and essentially made such promises, ultimately came up short of success, even if it did eventually find enough following to become a cult favorite. The real secret revealed here: you can’t just get by doing one thing right—you have to put the whole package together.

Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse

Just as a point in every direction is no point at all, one must also ask: if everyone is Spider-Man, then isn’t that the same as nobody really is Spider-Man? Is there nothing truly distinctive to the character that asks for something specific in the persona? The above may seem contradictory, but the thread, if you will, that binds much of this work together is contradiction. When this story reaches its key inflection point, with proclamations about not changing the canon, a viewer of any intelligence must be thinking, “You’ve got to be kidding.” The entire point of this exercise, here and in its predecessor, is about changing the canon—a fact made more and more obvious with each expression of its overarching agenda. (You may fill in that blank yourself.) And then, internal to that, there’s a gigantic contradiction in the stated premise that Miles is the source of the problem, so to speak. (I don’t want to spoil anything, but you can ask yourself: if Miles is an anomaly as stated, then how can he ... that’s about all I can give you.) Thus, there are issues here that should leave even the Generation AA-types this movie was made for scratching their heads, if not specifically calling bullshit. However, a huge part of this series’ appeal is the films being visually overwhelming, and that’s the sort of thing that can shut down higher brain functions. (That, I’m implying, may be intentional.) Huge swathes of the animation remain frenetic, to the point that an observer must wonder if there haven’t been a few seizures as a result of watching this flick. There’s also the danger of confusion, as the plot is so ambitious in the stories it is trying to tell that it can be easy to lose track of where you are at any given moment. A further consequence of that narrative largesse: the movie is so focused on the home life of its multiple protagonists that the villain, typically a major part of any superhero story, disappears for long stretches. Meh, he’s not that compelling anyway. Given these issues, how can this movie succeed? Mostly, it’s because the main characters are so damn likable that the viewer cares what happens to them in the end, and will be most disappointed if things go ill for these people. Alas, there’s a cliffhanger, so we’ll just have to wait and see how it all turns out. Again, I’ll go along for the denouement; I just wish I didn’t have to wade through so many layers of muddle and agenda to get there.

Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse

What can I say that hasn’t been said already? How about this?: it’s OK. Not insanely great, as the lemming population would have you believe. Just a fairly well done animated superhero story. And even the “well done” part may be a stretch, given certain aspects. What objections do I have? For one, the lauded-to-the-skies animation style is visually appealing, at times, but also contains elements that annoy throughout the proceedings—specifically a certain effect the appears to be a 3D multi-color rendering effect that pops up around characters and other screen objects. This happens despite the fact that the DVD copy I watched did not specifically indicate it was a 3D version of the movie. Perhaps the dimensionality for screening is inherent in the animation, regardless of how you’re viewing it—but from this seat, the effect was annoying and distracting. The soundtrack of largely late-stage hip-hop songs is for the most part the sonic equivalent of chewing on aluminum foil. Those choices demonstrate that the movie was created to appeal, almost ruthlessly, to a young audience, and conversely to drive away those who aren’t fully on board with Generation AA’s sense of … whatever it is they believe about things. Ah, yes, and that brings us to the most prominent backlash this film faced upon its release: the replacement of the White Guy with someone not-so-pale, nor male, nor in certain case even human. That prevails in at least one universe, that is; it’s true that the flick takes some pains to let you know that, yes, there’s still a traditional Peter Parker—with a B. middle initial, to distinguish—swinging around somewhere out there. But the main focus here, the movie's raison d'etre, is in the sort of identity swap-out that has become common in recent times. My previously-stated position still holds, people: you don’t become one of the cool kids by simply taking over the cool kids’ schtick. It’s immensely more admirable to create your own something special (and it's probably more profitable, in many ways, than the takeover thing). It is hard to be someone who has watched several iterations of a character, over decades, and not be keenly aware of the subversion taking place before your eyes, unless you're as blind and ignorant of the past as your standard issue Gen AA type. The identitarian agenda inescapably drags down the honest assessment of any such work, regardless of the quality displayed therein. And for sure, this film does have its strong elements, particularly in excellent voice performances by several of the principals; this talented cast makes these characters appealing, regardless of your stance on the embedded politics of the production. I will watch the sequel, for sure; there’s enough entertainment value here to merit giving this crew that due. But I do wish we didn’t have to tread this same political ground again and again. It’s not a web I particularly enjoy being caught in.