The ones that made the biggest impact on me in a terrible year for the world and a strange, limited year for movies.
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This alone should be disqualifying for "Soul": The movie removes parenting and life experience from the concept of personality and offensively implies -- in this year of all years -- that those who don’t survive near-death experiences pass away because of a lack of inspiration or determination.
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Find out if you should return to Bayside or leave it in the ‘90s.
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If “City So Real” wanted to document the complicated, 14-candidate race to replace Rahm Emanuel as mayor of Chicago in 2019, perhaps it might have clarified each contender’s policies and experience. But no.
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There are so many things to loathe about this movie that I need an itemized list to even begin to pick the worst.
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A portrait of raw, evolved sensitivity, tackling an emotional late bloomer in a way that is never ironic or played for laughs (but that can still be pointedly funny).
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The simple fact is that we are at a point where a lot of people are embracing cruelty, and meanness disguised as comedy, or passed off as innocent because of a lazy dismissal that it’s not serious, is cinematic gaslighting. And I’ve had it.
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Like spraying an empty air freshener to cover a fart, “Love, Guaranteed” claims to indict fraudulent presentations of romantic possibility while becoming exactly that.
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The film’s overt, relentless struggle to process its feelings is both a strength and a liability.
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Underrated ambitious, and fun as hell.
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The “Liberal Arts” vibes are considerable. I liked “I Used to Go Here” anyway, which I’m sure says as much about me as it does about the movie.
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Few points for originality, but a lot for execution.
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The phoniness of “Palm Springs” feels like painting a patio blue and calling it a pool, and then being dumb enough to jump in. I’m absolutely baffled by the love for this movie.
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A CGI dolphin humps the main character and then smacks her in the face with his penis. That should be all you need to know about “Desperados.”
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Reminiscent of everything and better than nothing, “Artemis Fowl” is like a writer was asked to create “Jupiter Ascending” for kids but make the main character Batman’s nephew or Harry Potter’s cousin or something and watch five minutes of “Lord of the Rings” and “Mission: Impossible III” while you’re typing and please have the script on my desk in like an hour, K?
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Challenges both viewers and its characters to feel, think and listen at the same time, something that’s easier said than done in reality and a rarity on screen.
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Quotable this is not, unless you plan to drop “Let’s go sex nuts” into conversation.
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From a political perspective, this is outdated and shallow. From a “Should I stream this while in quarantine?” perspective, it’s an empty vessel. Calling it snail-paced would be insulting to snails.
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Appealing exclusively to people who play board games for the enjoyment of setting up the pieces, “A Kind of Murder” is less cat-and-mouse than cat-and-mirror. The movie just sits there, proud to look pretty, not really doing anything.
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A laugh riot if your favorite word is “pubes,” “The Wrong Missy” at last bullies the endless charms of “Forgetting Sarah Marshall” into the toilet water of the horrifying Sandra Bullock vehicle “All About Steve.”
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