The Greatest Showman’s spectacle is overshadowed by its archaic and misguided notions of American exceptionalism.
Bill Condon’s remake actually delivers a remarkably optimistic balm to a festering, existential wound.
It ignores the delights and hardships of becoming an artist in lieu of simply presenting the long-touted liberating effects of art.
Basically a showcase for Andrew Haigh’s finely tuned screenplay and the performances of its two leads, 45 Years is arguably above all Charlotte Rampling’s show.
The film is guilty of some of the same quick judgment it clearly doesn’t endorse, exploiting Julian Assange’s unmistakable appearance to help give itself a boogeyman.
When you take interactive sex questionnaires, do you easily become sexually aroused?