Throughout, the film can’t decide what attitude to strike toward its characters’ evident greed.
When its tone slides firmly back into the murk, it’s hard not to see DC’s notion of heroism as borderline nihilistic.
Eleven years and several acclaimed films later, Noah Baumbach’s breakthrough still looks like his sharpest, most personally inflected work.
The film is simultaneously exhilarating, gorgeous, and tedious, operating as a weird fusion of auteur project and craven franchise start-up.
It potently clarifies how our lives are spent distracted from matters of the closest personal significance.
The sheer amount of people and incident indifferently presented throughout suggests only an obligation to quota-filling.
Joachim Trier’s film is a parable that takes depression seriously as a condition and a state of being.
An origin story, apologia, and harbinger of a second expanded universe of overpopulated action bonanzas.
A Bourne movie turned just askew enough to be funny, Nima Nourizadeh’s American Ultra trains a bemused eye on a trope ripe for a ribbing.
It does well in using dialogue to shape its escalating tête-à-tête, but the filmmaking is too fuzzy to expand on those ideas.