Game Night
Crit
Some films require not just a willing suspension of disbelief but an expulsion thereof, but if you can check your skepticism at the door, as I did, mostly (though it's tough when a guy gets shot clean through the arm and a couple of hours later is still losing enough blood to defile a poodle, but seems none the weaker for it), this is some good, cynical criminal fun.
It's also the first of two films I saw on the weekend in which a bereaved spouse begins to refer to "our bedroom," then stops and corrects him/herself. Zeitgeist note.
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