
47 Meters Down movie review: jumping the shark
Originally slated for a VOD release, and it feels like it: the few moments of simple tension quickly dissipate in the murky and not very shark-infested depths.

Originally slated for a VOD release, and it feels like it: the few moments of simple tension quickly dissipate in the murky and not very shark-infested depths.

This fictional dialogue inspired by a private meeting between real-life enemies can’t muster up more than the usual banalities about the ethics of politics and war.

This strained comedy might have been progressive in the 1960s, but today it reeks of an infantilization of women that warrants squashing, not celebrating.

Everything about this joyful, sincere origin story feels like a retort — a very welcome and much needed one — to traditional male-centered superhero stories.

Its message of interfaith understanding is an undeniably necessary one; too bad it’s delivered with the obvious broad humor of a sitcom Very Special Episode.

This low-stakes, emotionally limp portrait may be intended to humanize a towering, almost mythic figure, but instead just needles and undercuts him.
As you may already be aware if you’ve seen the notes on the what’s-in-cinema pages or follow me on Facebook, I’ve had to return suddenly to New York for a minor crisis…

A beach-slap to anyone with a brain. Embodies everything that is wrong with Hollywood today. It is proudly dumb. It is proudly sexist. It is proudly pointless.

An appalling elevation of toxic masculinity to something poignant, radical, and heroic. As unpleasant and as passive-aggressive as its horrid protagonist.

The franchise finally overstays its welcome with this cacophony of CGI spectacle, a contrived and confusing plot, and a newly cruel and stupid Jack Sparrow.