Despite some clunky characterization, the series is an ambitious and inventive piece of sci-fi.
This psychedelic, horror-strewn romp’s artistry perfectly reflects the intensity of Strange navigating endless alternate realms.
On screen, Shang-Chi is rotely defined by the same “gifted kid” impostor syndrome as so many other self-doubting MCU heroes before him.
Writer-director Edson Oda never really puts a unique spin on the familiar story of otherworldly figures peering in on the lives of the living.
The film sticks the landing as a manifestation of what unfettered trust in our shared humanity could look like.
Whatever new technology facilitated its genesis, the film is just another assembly-line reproduction.
Every serious narrative beat in the film is ultimately undercut by pro-forma storytelling, or by faux-improvised humor.
Paramount’s Blu-ray, which is most notable for its reference-level soundtrack, stays true to the film’s mutative beauty.
Throughout Avengeners: Infinity War, rapidity (of dialogue and drama) is mistaken for actual rhythm.
Alex Garland’s film gets momentum from the deeper it pushes into the uncertainties of ecology and the self.
Marvel’s best film to date is a surprisingly beautiful, eccentric, and generous fable of interpersonal, political, and cosmic communion.
Nothing that Marvel Studios has produced can compare to the visual splendor of Scott Derrickson’s film.
Despite all that talent on display, Sunshine is a philosophical blank slate.
It’s all very, very adorable and uplifting in spite of Gaby Dellal’s half-hearted attempts to affect a grave, tortured tone.
Like much of Michael Winterbottom’s work, the film is a highly uneven enterprise.
The film is a ludicrous, insecure psychological thriller that purports to give a human face to Britain’s invisible underclass.