Laura travels from Argentina to her small home town in Spain for her sister's wedding, bringing her two children, including her teen daughter Irene along for the occasion. Her husband Alejandro stays at home due to work obligations. Upon arrival, Irene is drawn to a local boy, who shares a secret with her. He tells her that her mother was once deeply in love with a local man named Paco (Javier Bardem), and broke his heart when she left. However, he assures her it's not actually a secret, because 'Everybody knows.' During the wedding party, Irene goes missing. A search of her room turns up newspaper clippings about a notorious kidnapping that took place in the area four years earlier.
Feb 08, 2019 Parents need to know that Everybody Knows is a mature Spanish-language drama about the kidnapping of a teen girl. The kidnapping itself isn't shown, but there are threats, arguing, yelling, and general tension. A tiny bit of blood is shown when a character gets a cut/wound.
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Soon after, mysterious and untraceable texts arrive demanding money, threatening Laura not to contact the police or there will be dire consequences. Director: Studio: Focus Features Producer(s):, Cast:, Writer(s): Asghar Farhadi.
There is a moment, in “Everybody Knows,” when Paco asks Laura, “Do you trust your husband completely?” And there is a moment, in “The Lego Movie 2: The Second Part,” when a tough guy, Rex Dangervest, asks a sweet but untough guy, Emmet Brickowski, “You sure we can trust her?” Snap! The “her” refers to a warrior named Lucy, also known as Wyldstyle, who is both tough and, if you dig down, not unsweet.
Like most of the folks in the film, she’s made of plastic—to be precise, Legoid plastic, bearing the scratches and scuffs that demonstrate how long, and how lovingly, she has been played with. The cosmos of toys could hardly be farther from the dusty roads and the ripening vines of “Everybody Knows,” yet both movies are menaced by the same fear: that your faith in someone else will fall to pieces. The, in 2014, with its unrelenting surfeit of gags, both visual and verbal, was directed by Phil Lord and Christopher Miller. To equate them with kids in a candy store would be unjust; they were more like kids who’d decided to build a store from candy, using bubble gum as cement. This time, they’ve written the screenplay but left the direction to Mike Mitchell, and the result is, if anything, even more of a sugar rush. At one point, a little yellow star tumbles to the ground, announces “I feel dizzy,” and belches forth a wave of glittering vomit. I saw the film in a vast auditorium, surrounded by young children and their parents.
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The laugh that greeted the vomiting was the loudest noise emitted by the kids, whereas their elders, being sufficiently ancient to remember “” (1988), were more amused by the Lego who pops up, without warning, in a ventilation shaft. In short, the age-based stratification of comedy is now complete, and you can picture the script conference, at Warner Bros., during which the rations of junior and senior jokes were meted out. At one point, Rex bemoans “the death of imagination in the subconscious.” Good luck explaining that to your five-year-old. The plot is a carnival of fuzzy logic.
Emmet’s home town, bright and neighborly in the earlier film, has shrivelled to a wasteland called Apocalypseburg—essentially, an excuse for a parade of angry Lego mashups to hurtle to and fro, as if auditioning for “Mad Brix: Fury Road.” One day, creatures made of Duplo (Lego for younger and more fumble-fingered users, with a heavy emphasis on pink) approach with a terrifying vow: “We are here to destwoy you.” Lucy is spirited away, and Emmet, aided by the stubbly Rex, embarks on a rescue mission. Viewers reared on “The Lego Movie” will find plenty to nourish them anew.
The songs are still peppy. The principal voices are still supplied by, and Will Arnett. And real, non-animated kids are still shown, now and then, sporting with their Lego creations. (Grungy dystopias for the boy, unicorns and princesses for his sister. So much for gender parity.) Why, then, does the sequel give off such a whiff of near-insanity? How come the climax depicts a shape-shifting Duplo queen being married off to Batman, while a talking ice-cream cone introduces the maids of honor as Marie Curie, Chocolate Bar, Tin Man, and?
Yeah, me neither. But let the record show that, between the first and the second Lego films, permitting the legal sale and distribution of marijuana, was passed in California. Just saying. ♦ This article appears in the print edition of the, issue, with the headline “The Missing Piece.”.