The film reinforces the idea that it’s the job of those with disabilities to inspire the jerks of the word to be nicer.
Heavy on training montages and intergenerational torch passing, Cars 3 is an old-fashioned sports film at heart.
Jared Hess’s film turns out to be a succession of failed jokes punctuated by a few cathartic laughs.
The film is frequently guilty of the same obsolescence it accuses the characters of embodying.
The only way that this film could be any more racist is if the Dwyer family holed up with Lillian Gish and waited for the Klan to save them.
Familiar as its art/life paralleling may be, it’s all fueled by a filmmaker with an intimate relationship to his subject matter.
Warner’s gorgeous Blu-ray preserves Paul Thomas Anderson’s Pynchon adaptation as the director’s anti-Magnolia.
This third and supposedly final edition in the franchise is nothing more than an uncomfortably transparent contractual obligation.
The dangers of filmmakers trying to replicate a golden era rather than embrace the present are part and parcel of Inherent Vice.
No cartoon has ever conveyed the struggle for self-actualization with such an inexpressive sense of imagination as this cheap and glorified babysitter.