Life Itself revels in the shameless emotional manipulation stemming from the ham-fisted tendencies of its own maker.
By the end, The House with a Clock in Its Walls completely loses sight of the trauma and grief that was meant to give the film its emotional core.
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.