The film reduces the arc of Chisholm’s life to inspirational movie clichés.
In its own way, this is as suitable a final work as a culminating magnum opus.
If anything, the film proves that John Wick is doomed to further Marvelization.
Criterion’s Blu-ray is a loving tribute to the tender approach that was taken toward the adaptation of Kemp Powers’s one-act play.
The film never finds the spark that would imbue the love affair at its center with a sense of passion or urgency.
The film understands how its major cultural figures navigated a political minefield, while never taking its eyes off of them as people.
This is a game where the triumphs come from tiny marvels of efficiency and careful planning rather than kinetic skill.
The film seems to have cobbled its set pieces together from a series of close-ups edited as if by random selection.
The choreography is as brutal as you expect, but the repetition in style from the first two films makes the effect less surprising.
Nia DaCosta indulges one of rural quasi-thriller’s most tiresome gambits: humorlessness as a mark of high seriousness.
A worthy escalation of its predecessor’s sleek charm, John Wick: Chapter 2 is the finest action film since Mad Max: Fury Road.
The film remarkably balances its predecessor’s spartan characterizations and plotting with an expansion of scale.
Riley Stearns’s film obliquely addresses its narrative mysteries through the conversational cracks of two people in enforced proximity.
The film has a tendency to embrace the action genre’s more obnoxious elements, but there’s a proudly no-nonsense air to its nonsensicality.
With The Guest, Adam Wingard announces himself as a conspirator of super-cool cine-pleasure.
An unsung 21st-century American noir receives the audio-visual treatment it deserves. But don’t expect much in the way of supplemental context.
“The Seven Wonders” finds Coven largely tending, predictably for the most part, to a final bit of plot bookkeeping.
It behaves as the TV equivalent of what Quentin Tarantino once deemed a “hang out movie.”
Roland Emmerich makes love of country into a thing of unabashed hokum, which bleeds through every nook of this overstuffed jumble and leaves no character untouched.
The means by which the film provides the facts is its weakest aspect, but it’s more a narrative snafu than a half-assed political statement.