Thanks in large part to Kidman’s internalized tenacious ferocity, Destroyer became a cold-blooded thriller I had no wish to tear my eyes away from, its final moments a haunting nightmare of agony, regret and retribution that, while not original, remained intimately effective all the same.
But the majesty of If Beale Street Could Talk is in the mystifying discoveries Jenkins asks the viewers to make on their own. In the end this is a glorious treatise on more than just race in America, more than a dissertation on wealth, privilege and gender inequalities and what individuals and families go through in order to conquer them. It is an examination of who we are as a society, the best and worst of our tendencies all shimmering through in one way or another as this story of love, tragedy and family plays out to conclusion.
On the Basis of Sex is also a magnificent showcase for Jones, the talented actresses giving one of the best performances of her career, making this examination of Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s early judicial exploits a rousing success I couldn’t help but love.
After The Big Short I expected more from the director. To say Vice didn’t deliver on those expectations would be to understate that sentiment considerably.
Aquaman is an unhinged undersea thrill ride I enjoyed immensely, and the next time this hero picks up his trident I’ll eagerly take that leap into the cinematic ocean in order to see just what injustice he intends to remedy wielding it.
I liked Ben is Back a lot, and if not for a lumpy third act it’s possible I’d have considered this to be one of 2018’s best motion pictures.
Bumblebeen is the kind of picture I would have been head over heels about as a wide-eyed youngster, and as a somewhat cynical adult this is just the type of movie that breaks through that pessimism and reminds me why I love what it is I do with such unadulterated dedication. There’s way more than meets the eye going on here, and I for one I’m blissfully happy about that.
Welcome to Marwen is a revolting calamity, and my hope is that audiences choose to avoid this film like the plague.
Mary Poppins Returns is supercalifragilisticexpialidocious, and that’s the biggest word I’ve ever heard that also precisely fits what I thought about this sequel. It’s practically perfect in every way.