Frank & Lola occasionally benefits from the weird energy shared between Michael Shannon and Imogen Poots.
Any of the film’s attempts at moralizing are subsumed by Kevin Smith’s obsession with taking aim at his critics.
In the film, Alvin and the Chipmunks proudly align themselves not with Dr. Demento, but with Kidz Bop.
The film’s time-jumping strategy cleverly illuminates the way in which we go over and fixate on isolated incidents in our minds of breakups past.
It suggests the worst possible gene splice of a Terrance and Phillip South Park episode, Fargo’s blithe condescension, and the smuggest of Quentin Tarantino pastiches.
The strain to make the film both an educational tool and a child-minded entertainment is noticeable throughout.
While it tries to relate a story about the sloppiness of life, the way best-laid plans can go wrong in an instant, its script is neatly and tidily structured.
Kat Coiro’s film takes comedy of discomfort to new levels of cringe-worthiness.
Kat Coiro’s film is a frustrating case of a great opportunity blown.
If nothing else, 10 Years is hip to the fleeting, fundamental joys of revisiting one’s youth.
When it comes to Julie Delpy, the key question remains the old Barbra Streisand one.
It seems impossible to watch Unsupervised and not think of Beavis and Butt-head.
This is “the Al Pacino Dunkin’ Donuts commercial in Jack and Jill” as an actual movie.
Robert Redford nimbly dramatizes a historical moment that’s politically relevant without being explicitly preachy.
It’s telling that the film’s leading man is voiced by Justin Long, the current go-to actor for awkward but well-meaning young protagonists in romantic comedies.
It’s tough to expect more from a film that borrows a spray-tanning-gone-awry gag from Old Dogs.
Even apart from the film’s vaguely insane endorsement of love at all costs, there’s the fact that much of it is simply not very funny.
The story is so paper-thin one surmises it was scrawled on soggy toilet paper somewhere.