Matthew Vaughn’s film is smothered in numbing exhibits of conspicuous consumption.
Most depressing about the film are the learning-and-growing climaxes predictably expunging all of the material’s dark implications.
For Annette Bening, it seemed as if the stars in the Oscar sky had finally aligned into a shape that wasn’t that of Hilary Swank’s face.
All season long, two prominent Oscar players have straddled the uncomfortable line between aligning with the supporting and leading categories.
The film’s especially detailed vision of time and place deserves to be seen in high definition.
The film’s succinct, well-paced plot avoids narrative convention and cheap sentimentality.
MacGruber uses all of Hollywood’s lavish resources and conventions to get you to laugh at Hollywood’s excesses and conventions.
Not much star power bolstering the disc’s bonus features, but overall it’s a nice package for a rather small film.
Humorless and sanctimonious, Burning Plain groans with shoddy ironies and overbearing serendipity.