Love can be found and lasting connections can be made even in a world drowning in chaos and indecision. This is the song that The Ballad of Wallis Island triumphantly sings. It’s one worth playing on repeat.

Millers in Marriage is a well-acted descent into the depressively mundane, and 117 minutes of one banal struggle after another was not my cup of tea.

A Working Man is a sleazy waste of time.

Black Bag is a dinner party game of seduction, revelation, and retribution better played without knowing all the rules beforehand.

I was disappointed by this iteration of Last Breath. Chris has an incredible story. The same goes for all of those who were involved with his rescue. But I didn’t care. Not about Chris. Not about his shipmates. Not about any of it. Talk about a tragedy.

The Paddington movies are a cathartic jolt of kindness that the world could use more of right now.

The Prosecutor is exceedingly entertaining. It’s also not even passingly believable.

After another look, I’m starting to feel like we’re all going to look back on Joker: Folie à Deux and realize that collectively we got this one wrong.

I walked away from The Count of Monte Cristo invigorated. Its intensity, its majesty, its larger-than-life virtuosity, all of that and more filled my heart with glee.