The series feels tiresome in its relentless pleading with us to be impressed.
Nicolas Pesce evincing little of the promise he showed in his prior films, and even less drive to remake the old into something new.
Wattam communicates a poignant, refreshing, and all-too-necessary joy in the face of adversity.
The series never loses sight of its premise, though it remains bleak without beating you over the head.
Did you know that corporations are bad? That the drudgeries of adult life are soul-crushing?
The film gets so lost in its affected idiosyncrasies that it stops probing any discernible human feelings.
Season two of the series explores how our preoccupations bring us comfort when we might need it most.
The film feels more like a smattering of action scenes strung together by the barest thread of plot.
The show’s control of tone and atmosphere soon becomes even more engrossing than the story’s mystery itself.
It focuses equally on moments of shared connection and incidental loss until the two feel indistinguishable.
Sergio Pablos’s film is essentially a metaphor for its own unique and refreshing mode of expression.
The game is so zany and so mired in its traditional progression systems that it ceases to say anything of note.
The series struggles to sensibly lay out the particulars of its post-apocalyptic feudalism.
Alice Waddington’s sci-fi fantasy never finds a cohesive story wrapper for its themes.
There’s little apparent benefit to how the show’s second season foregrounds its interpersonal relationships.
The film is loud and obvious about declaring its themes, as if to distract from their ultimate shallowness.
The game offers one of the most fascinating, unique, and fulfilling portrayals of the human mind.
The series argues the ways injustice might persist, and in that sense, its alternate history doesn’t look so alien after all.
Behind the film’s self-awareness and irony is a hollow emotional core.
The series is decidedly unambitious and ends before it ever really gets off the ground.