Silas Howard’s film feels like a scenario from a textbook about handling a child’s gender nonconformity.
The tea leaves tell us that this is a more unpredictable Oscar race than most people are perhaps willing to admit.
The impudent, unruly streak that so often gives Guillermo del Toro’s films their pulse has been airbrushed away.
The Shape of Water’s setting yields an inherent coldness that Guillermo del Toro must work to overcome.
Gifted’s notes are crowded out by the screenplay’s plot machinations and emotional manipulations.
Let’s honor Viola Davis’s impending win for what it is: a moment of truth, clarity, and justice.
Taraji P. Henson triumphantly articulates the pained dignity of Katherine Johnson’s pent-up frustration.
Glenn Close’s face teems with a flawlessly controlled gravitas that’s completely at odds with the film’s ordinariness.
The film’s weird reformulation of the Electra complex is nothing short of a sexist fantasy of salvation.
A Little Golden Book version of drastically simplified socialism accompanied with a healthy dose of warmongering bravado.