As bits of fluffy fun are concerned Lost in Paris is a dance of delicious amusements, watching it an absolute pleasure I’m certain to indulge in whenever the opportunity to do so might fortuitously arise.
Spider-Man: Homecoming might just be the most adorable motion picture I see all summer.
[Having] us walk the same mile they do in shoes they themselves are wearing is a therapeutically evocative means to an exceedingly profound end, Band Aid hitting so many right notes any false ones it might inadvertently strike are lost in a symphony of reflective magnificence I could listen to for days on end with no hesitation whatsoever.
Sofia Coppola’s (Somewhere, Lost in Translation) take on The Beguiled is a decidedly feminist, unnervingly funny foray into Southern Gothic terrors that’s as exquisitely made as it is oddly problematic.
Despicable Me 3 is easily the least interesting film in the trilogy, the fact all involved are having such difficulty coming up with many original ideas speaking volumes.
Reset works, there’s really nothing else to say, this ticking clock thriller a timely leap into the human abyss that proves once again a parent’s love for their child is as undying as it is also potentially unstoppable.
Baby Driver might not live entirely up to the hype, but that doesn’t make it any less wonderful, Wright once again showing he’s a fearless genre-busting directorial wunderkind who’s creative gas tank overflows in originality.
Elliott nails every scene. It’s a superlative turn, and I’m hard-pressed to think of another actor who could have brought the same sort of lived-in gravitas to the role.
[If] there are any more entries like Transformers: The Last Knight than the end for this series can’t come quick enough, and maybe it would be for the best if Optimus Prime and his Autobots gave up on the human race and left us to destroy ourselves in relative peace and quiet.