Given the academy’s long history and resurgent embrace of technical triumphs, we’re not holding our breath for an upset here.
The film is one that might have been dreamed up by one of the cynical douche bros from the Hangover during a blacked-out stupor.
There’s a little Charlie Chaplin in the Joker’s steps early on, before madness grips him in ways that would probably make Pennywise shudder.
Todd Phillips’s film is unrepentantly cynical when it comes to the global business of warmongering.
The Hangover Part III is a sequel every bit as disposable as its predecessor.
Mystery seems to shroud every aspect of Fox Searchlight’s Sound of My Voice.
The Hangover Part II is something like the contents of a fraternity house’s toilet the morning after an insane kegger.
Due Date eventually settles into a rough if credible buddy film, one that at least washes off the stink of its initial nastiness.
If you’ve got a Ruffie hangover, you can relive the The Hangover for the first time all over again. Just skip the bonus material.
Todd Phillips peddles gonzo male camaraderie fantasies in which lifelong friendships are forged or reinforced through trials by fire.
The film invites us to squirm at uncomfortable human interactions that are funny for reasons at once superficial and deeply thoughtful.
Todd Phillips seems incapable of escaping youthful educational environs.
Judging by Todd Phillips’s tired Starsky & Hutch, it appears that ’70s nostalgia has finally run its course.