Mahershala Ali, still fresh off his prior win in this category, performs utter miracles with the role of jazz pianist Dr. Don Shirley.
Who knew that Will Tippin from Alias and Mother Monster had this much spark between them?
Sam Elliott’s calmly affecting performance is overwhelmed by a doggedly conventional screenplay.
The main character is a collection of insecurities that have been calculatedly assembled so as to teach children familiar lessons.
Paul Weitz’s proudly boisterous star vehicle for Lily Tomlin has about as many ambitions as it does delusions.
The film devolves now and then into cartoonish cutesiness with its broadly drawn minor characters.
One of the great things about this noir-western hybrid is its interest in updating more than just the superficial tropes of those genres.
The cruelly obvious third act congeals the film as a wet-eyed monument to the Kevin Costner character’s particular brand of American manliness.
James Glickenhaus’s film deals in chest hair.
Robert Redford’s film is blindly cocooned by its own nostalgic self-regard.
One selection here is so indelible that its wearer spawned the name for a whole style of ’stache.
The film is a low-rent neo-noir propped up by descriptions of, rather than depictions of, sexual kink.
A somewhat amusing yet trite example of the modern-day screwball comedy.
It’s a smooth ride, which is precisely the problem in a film proposing to examine a hollow character’s malaise.
The film sets out to steal some of that J.K. Rowling magic and sprinkle it over Philip Pullman’s series of fantasy novels.
The whole shebang is just a prolonged setup for a bear fight.
Comic book adaptations of late are feeling less and less like feature films and more like depictions of their life-sized action figure counterparts.
The only recompense Mark Steven Johnson deserves for this latest schlocky comic-book translation is having his DGA card set on fire.
This is the most dubious animation since Robert Zemeckis’s creepy The Polar Express.
All that Thank You for Smoking really peddles is a smoggy cloud of “moral flexibility.”