Valdimar Jóhannsson’s feature-length debut Lamb is one of the more captivatingly daft, yet oddly heartbreaking, motion pictures I’ve seen this year.
Cinderella gave me a headache, and that might be the nicest thing I have to say on the matter.
Shang-Chi kicks butt, just not enough of it to fully satisfy.
While I’m no gamer, Free Guy is one breezily intoxicating expedition into the unknown I wish I could pick up a controller and play for myself, and that’s a compliment.
The Green Knight is an otherworldly tale told at a measured pace that doesn’t spoon-feed the viewer a single easy answer to any of its impenetrable psychoanalytical moralistic queries.
Kids will undoubtedly disagree with me on Jungle Cruise, and had I watched this one with eight-year-old eyes possibly I’d think differently about all this cartoonish hooey.
Szumowska and Englert have delivered something marvelously peculiar with Never Gonna Snow Again, and watching it with practically little foreknowledge of anything I was about to experience has been one of the more profoundly befuddling joys I’ve had this year.
Mortal Kombat never delivers on any of its promise, and I’m honestly not sure that if a sequel ends up getting made I’d want to take the time to watch it.
Some movies exist as if solely to make the viewer feel good. They’re not masterpieces. That’s Luca, and that’s wonderful.