The tea leaves tell us that this is a more unpredictable Oscar race than most people are perhaps willing to admit.
I, Tonya’s attempts to implicate viewers is its broken shoelace, too pat and glib to be convincing.
The Girl on the Train arrives on Blu-ray in a serviceable, if unremarkable, packaging from Universal.
Tate Taylor’s The Girl on the Train is a grimly deadpan lecture about messy truths and false perceptions.
Tim Burton’s direction reminds us of the distinct, peculiar coyness that was always at the heart of his best films.
Facts about each character are dutifully punched out, in earnest speeches or actions that are wildly overdrawn.
The film follows its predecessor in being broadly concerned with comforting notions of home and family.
It’s the sustained, full-bodied mania of Melissa McCarthy’s performance that anchors the film’s many winning blind-alley gags.
The film deposits its heroine and everyone in the audience looking toward her for image-maintaining guidance back at square one.
The drama over dinner comes in small analgesic portions, and the secrets feel canned and the dialogue is too pretty to be believable.