A.O. Scott digs the new Terminator joint. Sorta:
...the movie, directed by McG (yes, him, the one-named auteur at the helm of the "Charlie's Angels" pictures) from a script by John Brancato and Michael Ferris, has a brute integrity lacking in some of the other seasonal franchise movies. It parades neither the egghead aspirations of "Star Trek" nor the thick-skulled pretensions of "X-Men Origins: Wolverine," but instead feels both comfortable with its limitations and justly proud of its accomplishments.
Among these are efficient, reasonably swift storytelling -- the movie, less than two hours long, is densely populated with semi-important characters and crammed with exposition and incident, but it rarely feels busy or talky -- and a mastery of the vernacular of chases, fights, explosions and crashes. McG may not yet have a signature style -- he lacks the baroque vulgarity of Michael Bay ("Pearl Harbor" and "Transformers") or the punchy inventiveness of Brett Ratner (the "Rush Hour" movies and "X-Men: The Last Stand") -- but he manages speed, impact and the choreography of technomayhem with aplomb and a measure of wit.
I think I'm going to see this. Christian Bale is a favorite around these parts.
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