Alexander Payne’s film is subtly attuned to the way that class constricts people’s lives.
The fundamental ineptness of Gunpowder Milkshake appears to be a consequence of the exponentially swelling glut of streaming options.
Tamara Jenkins never musters the effort to expand the scope of her narrative, opting to make a film strikingly similar to The Savages.
As it proceeds, the appeal of its nostalgia wears thin and you may notice that there isn’t much beyond the window dressing.
The moral lines dividing the dueling parties in Billions have grown compellingly murky in season three.
The film is about the idea of Andy Kaufman, about how artists channel their influences and keep the dead alive.
Morgan’s makers lose trust in the intellectual heft of their material and chose to prioritize empty sensation instead.
The film shows that formula can be repurposed to serve empathetic ends without losing its self-actualizing appeal.
The film crams in jokes long past the point of relevance and often to outright distraction, if not annoyance.
The film touches on the effects of a culture that puts too much emphasis on winning and money at the expense of simple healthy competition.
Mark Osborne’s The Little Prince reveals itself to be concerned with the blossoming of qualified idealism.
In Billions, money isn’t money, but a scorecard signifying a theoretically cold and objective qualification of bitterness and one-upmanship.
It’s most towering accomplishment are its set pieces, which manage to be brash, exhilarating, and even occasionally moving.
It neglects to thoroughly conceive of Emma’s plight, instead making only sporadic gestures to it.
The film’s script, by Oren Moverman and Michael A. Lerner, is slavishly adherent to biopic formula and clunky affirmations of Brian Wilson’s legacy.
In the film, the biggest earthquake in recorded history is less natural disaster than divorce negotiation process.
As executed by writer-director Ari Folman, the concept is tidy, superficially clever, and almost defiantly irrelevant.
Sony’s insistent to let fans have their webs and sling them too and the high-flying 4K Blu-ray does precisely that.
Marc Webb proves unwilling, or incapable, of making this unwieldy story feel like anything but a deluge of backstory.
A tale of memory and redemption that does little to linger in the mind and even less to decry P.L. Travers’s claim that Disney turns everything it touches into schmaltz.