In Fahrenheit 11/9, Michael Moore’s circus-showman duplicity is as crass and abhorrently self-promoting as that of the man he seeks to oust.
The Sisters Brothers proffers a sort of Edenic vision of a latter-day El Dorado that’s worth basking in.
More than any other prestige TV offering, BoJack Horseman is simultaneously edifying and infantile.
There’s barely a single scare in David Gordon Green’s Halloween that isn’t undermined by some forced bit of funniness.
Even an act of noble sacrifice late in The Predator is reflective of Shane Black’s streak of puckish nihilism.