The series sucks the juice out of its pop-cultural reference points, failing to mine our current nightmares on its own terms.
My Cousin Rachel leaves Rachel’s motives, desires, and integrity (or lack thereof) ambiguous through to the end.
It boasts a Greatest Generation nostalgia so thoroughgoing it might as well be called Boys Becoming Men.
The thinly sketched characters are numerous and inconsequential, with Lone Scherfig giving sparse attention to humanizing or deepening them.
The filmmakers cut the film to emphasize the story’s familiar plot points, rather than highlight any instances of personal visual artistry.
A frothy mixture of costume drama and soap opera, Neil Jordan’s show brandishes moral outrage and a blunt understanding of politics.
A coherent characterization of Robert Pattinson’s striving schemer is nowhere to be found in this pedestrian period piece.
The Borgias doesn’t want us to think that it’s only about kinky sex or disgusting violence.