Reviews

Proof once again that director Steven Soderbergh is both fantastic at delivering crisp, efficient work but also that he's better when given time to find depth and surprise.

Once again, Clooney has delivered a movie that you will see and shrug and eventually not be entirely sure if you actually did see it when you stream it for five minutes, then doze off.

All chemistry, no clarity.

A powerful exploration of brief terror converted into an open wound.

Perhaps a biopic in which an announcer utters the line, “The Warriors have barfed their way into the championship” is less about accuracy and depth than projecting something noxious as far as it possibly can.

If you had to describe "Zola" with a serious character limit, you could just say "Florida" and move on.

The story drives the characters instead of the other way around, with numerous contrivances and questionable motivations that create doubts about the narrative rather than complexity about the walls closing in.

A lively, funny, likable movie that also serves as an unsettling metaphor for the selfish intentions of people who take no accountability and create destruction for those who engage with their tornado.

Looks at real life in America and what it would take to bail out from destruction — and if legitimate fear could rise above the noise before it’s too late.

It feels like there’s more movie fighting to get in here, and “King Richard” refuses.

The ones that made the biggest impact on me in a volatile year for the world and a somewhat more traditional year for movies.

A devastating portrait of the way things have always been done clashing with the urgency of reality, of a person against a system.

It’s like the National covering Coldplay, or a motivational speaker with her eyes closed.

Words can only sell it so much; there's an odd feeling here that cuts right to a world that gets in the way of love in its purest form.

If you’re out on something that can be described as “Saved by the Bell: The Reboot: The Movie: The Nightmare,” that’s fine. It’s also your loss.

Shares its main character’s instability until it falls apart completely, failing to mix broad attempts at humor with startling violence.

It’s not called “Red Notice (Taylor’s Version),” all descriptive and emotional and important. There’s a place for that (on “Red [Taylor’s Version]”). This is not that place. “Red Notice” needs few words: Action good. Lines funny. Movie fun enough.

It might be a stretch to call the film “The Player” for the Me Too era, but you could make a case.