After a ten-day, 23-film Venice Competition that started slowly but respectably, hit a healthy stride midway through and began wheezing with exhaustion in its closing stages, things have finally ground to a permanent halt with “Texas Killing Fields” (**), the sophomore feature from Ami Canaan Mann — daughter of Michael, who predictably takes a producer credit here. Mann fille arrived on the Lido a mostly unknown quantity — her debut feature dropped 10 years ago, and appears to have been by precisely nobody in that time — and I’d love to say she proved to be something of a secret weapon up festival director Marco Mueller’s sleeve.
Alas, the only weapons brandished by this color-by-numbers tumbleweed policier are those belonging to the dutifully scowling small-town cops played by Sam Worthington, Jeffrey Dean Morgan and one of Jessica Chastain’s recently minted clones — the ones to whom she now hands the second-string scripts that don’t quite merit her personal attention.


All eyes on on the big four, films that have yet to screen but expect to play a heavy hand in the Oscar race: 
I knew five minutes into McG’s cumbersome, misguided, lifeless “Terminator Salvation” that I would be writing a short take rather than a full review. The film sucks inspiration out of the viewer in a staggering fashion. It disavows intriguing ideas explored in the franchise to date and renders a potentially exciting re-launch of the material impotent and meaningless. It is frankly difficult to give the film a whole lot of thought.
Boy, Danny Huston sure does seem to be going for the cash grab lately. He’s a talented actor, so I sure wish he’d try to expand beyond the creative rut he’s in right now. First “30 Days of Night,” then “X-Men Origins: Wolverine,” now