Peter Berg

I think you can smell what the Rock is cooking: a dish that'll fatten your head but pleasantly plump your gut.

Mann skips off convention like a stone on a river...impassively observing his Hitchcockian hero: dragged into action and struggling to save the day from a sympathetic devil.

Berg fashions a Spike Lee-esque prism through which he sheds light on the game, though Berg hasn't so much got game as he got highlight.

The second half gets so worked up over itself that Hancock becomes nearly unrecognizable as the movie we were all enjoying twenty minutes earlier.

The unwillingness to 'engage' in larger questions disconcertingly reduces a real-life tragedy to an action movie.

Hammer[s] home what the news media didn’t much convey in 2010: the human-level horror of being on the rig and the sheer scope of the unnaturalness of the enterprise.

'Terror bad. Boston strong.'