Johnson’s film is effectively a light-hearted version of David Fincher’s The Game.
The film matches stylistic experimentation with a multi-tiered narrative of equal ambition.
The film smuggles some surprisingly bleak existential questioning inside a brightly comedic vehicle.
By the end of the film, it’s clear that the most merciful act for the series may be a stake through the heart.
Maybe it’s not the worst thing in the world that Storks doesn’t take many cues from Pixar’s tear-jerking playbook.
The film’s lampooning of a business built on pure surface extends to its riotous original songs.
The film risks offense by putting a typically Adam Sandler-ian twist on a tired familial trope.
This sequel strenuously works to form a total inversion of the first movie’s relationship with food.
The new Andy Samberg vehicle, Brooklyn Nine-Nine, brings a welcome blend of whimsy and heart to the indefatigable crime drama.
Essentially the film aims to trade in the awkwardness of teen sexuality, but too often settles for the gross-out gag instead.
The album proves there isn’t anyone out there who executes this strain of musical comedy with as much satirical precision as the Lonely Island.
Yet another instance of a decent, potentially thorny premise bogged down in a mess of treacly sentiment and tedious moralizing.
Lee Toland Krieger’s Celeste and Jesse Forever is an honest and breezily melancholic film.
Adam Sandler’s celebration of stunted-maturity stupidity continues unabated in That’s My Boy.
Sundance Film Festival 2012: Tim and Eric’s Billion Dollar Movie and Celeste and Jesse Forever
Illogical and proudly crude plot developments are par for the course in Billion Dollar Movie.
The film grounds its story’s food frenzy and hysteria with a heartfelt wonderment.
At the very least, I Love You, Man warns us of the risks of telling someone to clean up their dog’s shit.
The film retains the raunch and retrograde sexual politics of Brand Apatow bromances with none of the sporadic belly laughs.
Kirk De Micco’s Space Chimps is rated G, but what for?
This is a tired rehash of every SNL alum’s big-screen debut since Adam Sandler’s Billy Madison.