A Constant Visual Feast

I wonder what it would be like if Sophie Thatcher starred in a film where she isn’t forced to consider her capacity for determining her own course through life. (I also wonder what it would be like to watch Jack Quaid play a nice boy in a movie, and not just in The Boys, but in a couple of weeks Novocaine will come out and I’ll wonder no longer.) 

Thatcher is wonderful in Companion, but the story here, for me, is one about this vast and irritating culture of anti-spoiler hand-wringing. Things get spoiled. It’s the digital age. That’s life. Take whatever precautions you have to to stay pure, but look, guys, the marketing is as the marketing does; it’s there to convince audiences to go to theaters, and it isn’t going to give everything away*. Relax. 

I have slightly harsher words than that in my piece about the film and the internet’s reaction to its full trailer, though, over at The Daily Beast.

*Unless the marketing team has the same facility with their work as Ted Buckland does with his.