Coco receives an expectedly resplendent home-video treatment.
The film brings Pixar’s emotional directness to a festive, reverent, and wide-ranging pastiche of Mexican culture.
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 Doctor Strange.
Its clunky incidents of exposition leave us with no real understanding of what anyone is thinking or feeling.
Ricky Gervais’s film hopscotches through a variety of premises, looking for jokes that never arrive.
It seems engineered to give you that initial rush of satisfaction, but leaves you in a dead zone where the only thing you want is more of the same.
This sequel strenuously works to form a total inversion of the first movie’s relationship with food.
The script’s jumble of plot asides and family-friendly pandering is enough to make you want to root for a hero.
If 2004’s Catwoman expressed anything, it wasn’t female empowerment, but the empowerment Halle Berry felt after winning her historic Oscar three years prior.
Yet another dubious Guevara biopic that sees the man’s ideology as something to be worn and not questioned.
Soderbergh’s professed neutrality toward Guevara’s life and times succeeds mostly in leeching the emotion out of them.
The real delusion is the film’s belief that anyone talks, thinks, or behaves like its oh-so-quirky cast of well-meaning crazies.