Many wondered why Foxcatcher’s Steve Carell didn’t attempt a campaign in supporting actor, which is where BAFTA slotted him.
Yes, gay panic-prone Mark Schultz, that was a joke at your expense.
Kevin Costner scowls and darts around the dubious thin line between “racism” and un-sugarcoated “truthfulness.”
Much of the category manages to avoid spinning out into its usual twin pitfalls of snark and self-satisfied solemnity.
The critics have spoken. The guilds have spoken. The Golden Globes have spoken.
It may seem quotidian compared to the current requirements of the weekly series format, but its attention to detail isn’t given nearly enough credit.
It makes John Huston’s elephantine, synthetically charismatic 1982 adaptation look like a Minnelliesque model of focus and concision.
Listen to a playlist of the best singles of the year on YouTube and Spotify.
It doesn’t take long to realize that Ridley Scott’s adaptation is only aiming for certain forms of credibility, and callously eschewing others.
The London Sessions announces itself in its very title as a jaunt outside of Blige’s comfort zone.
If your answer to the question “When are rape jokes funny?” is anything aside from “never,” the good news is that you may still find a lot to hoot over throughout the film.
This sequel makes the most of Harry and Lloyd’s broadly neutered existence.
The film consistently settles for the cheapest shock devices and the most shopworn totems of our current neo-gothic moment in the genre.
In the Nicholas Sparks universe, love always conquers, and anyone who stands in its way doesn’t just lose. They die.
The film does exactly the same thing to Alexander he accused his family of doing in the first place: it marginalizes him.
Art Official Age’s main takeaway is that His Royal Badness has started to make peace with being past his prime.
You can’t help but be impressed by how much it represents a natural, even defensive evolutionary step on its creator’s part.
Cazwell’s Hard 2 B Fresh drops the retro West End Records samples that helped put him on the map in favor of faster, trendier, EDM-ier beats.
And the jury’s still very much out over whether Shawn Levy is an inept comedy director masquerading as an opportunistically dramatic one, or vice versa.
Roger Donaldson embellishes an already overly plotty scenario with hollowly attractive genre superfluities.