Breaking the laws of human nature is an ancient comic convention, but it only works when it leads to a laugh.
It alternates awkwardly between shrill, borderline misogynistic sex farce and desperately gory, pun-rife creature feature.
It’s hard to see the fiscal woes at the center of Zach Braff’s film as anything more than a fashionable depiction of first-world problems.
As the film moves from one musical performance to another, the result increasingly feels like a series of celebrity impersonations set to a best-of-punk compilation album.
The film is going to net a lot of undue, hyperbolic ink, simply because it’s the first Twilight installment that’s compulsively watchable.
Let’s just say that Carmen Maura, Jennifer Jones, and Bill Cosby have more in common than you might have thought.
Todd Lincoln’s The Apparition didn’t have to be a bad movie.
A Warrior’s Heart doesn’t just ooze sexism by the way it demands a perfect emulation of hetero-masculinity from its characters.
Breaking Dawn offers precious few returns, and it continually punishes all who curb their cynicism for even a split second.
Anthony Burns’s film adopts a loose, freewheeling tone that aims to privilege people and place over plotting.
No measure of ostensible abstinence can alter the fact that Twilight ultimately hinges on a hilariously skeevy implicit suggestion.