The film reduces Ruth Bader Ginsburg's life to a series of clearly defined hurdles and overemphatic realizations.
The flawless A/V transfer of Disney’s Blu-ray fully translates the film's aesthetic beauty.
It’s difficult to begrudge a film that has the good sense to put so much stock in Ben Kingsley’s hammy theatrics.
A Monster Calls is both governed and straitjacketed by director J.A. Bayona’s competent impersonality.
Rogue One at least creates its own character dynamics and plot routes rather than coasts on existing ones.
Ron Howard’s adaptation retains the essential inanity of author Dan Brown’s source material.
Comparisons to Steven Spielberg’s The BFG and Spike Jonze’s Where the Wild Things Are will be inevitable.
It’s mostly notable for the concerted, and effective, effort that’s been made to have this first Star Wars Anthology film be in conversation with and stand apart from the official Star Wars series.
If its copycat visual artistry illuminates nothing, at least its script is sincerely devoted to probing Finkel and Longo’s odd partnership.
The gynophobic evidence is there and it’s damning.
Meticulous in its adherence to conventional narrative inducement, it only offers a sanded-down and embossed vision of Stephen Hawking and Jane Wilde’s 30-year marriage.
Drake Doremus’s film is an inert, thinly plotted melodrama premised on trite characterizations that would be offensive if they weren’t so absurd.
Ralph Fiennes’s film feels not so much rooted in the past as it is mired in conventions about how to portray that past.
Stacie Passon approaches Concussion’s subject matter provocatively though never exploitatively.
The film usually feels like it’s soullessly connecting dots, a far cry from the Before Sunrise-style substance its Yank-meets-Euro chattiness might suggest.
I’m sure I read an interview with Russell T Davies some time ago where he referred to “The Unicorn and The Wasp” as “the first comedy we’ve done.”