The series works best when it focuses on intimate, human moments rather than on broad social critiques.
Adrift is a simple, acutely observed love story that also happens to be a rousingly stripped-down tale of survival.
Baltasar Kormákur’s Adrift is, shudder, “based on the incredible true story…of what would become the largest storm in the Pacific.”
It depicts Snowden’s ethical dilemmas in a political vacuum that disregards America’s complex security threats.
A Little Golden Book version of drastically simplified socialism accompanied with a healthy dose of warmongering bravado.
Gregg Araki’s film suggests a hothouse melodrama that’s been drained of the hothouse, the melodrama, and any other discernably dramatic stakes.
It frequently uses sass as a smokescreen, hiding what’s unoriginal and cheaply sentimental about this story behind a veil of witticisms about oblivion and “cancer perks.”
Neil Burger’s film transcends the déjà vu of its borrowed trappings but ironically sacrifices all momentum in favor of a long series of physical tests.
Given the film’s early promise, it’s unfortunate how it turns into a largely reductive Freudian character piece in which the main character has to come to terms with his old man.
In the minus column, Woodley is also proving to be an arm in the recent hydra of woman-hating entertainment news.
Alexander Payne’s lovely, resonant fifth film does the hula on a lonely island of imminent death and wasted life.
The Descendants is unassumingly superb, and it’s sure to clinch a whole lot of Oscar nominations. Indeed, it’s a Clooney.
On the basis of About Schmidt, you’d think Alexander Payne (and his writing partner, Jim Taylor) had a problem dealing with grief.
Part Coen brothers and part James L. Brooks, Alexander Payne makes comedies about serious stuff like abortion and midlife crises.