
Ten Thousand Saints movie review: exhausted urban elegy
An achingly perfect evocation of New York’s East Village in the 1980s and an amazing cast cannot make this tale of adolescent anxiety catch fire.

An achingly perfect evocation of New York’s East Village in the 1980s and an amazing cast cannot make this tale of adolescent anxiety catch fire.

The male protagonist uses his newly acquired godlike powers to treat women badly, as if they were nothing more than playthings for men.

Subjuvenile and offensive, sentimental and ridiculous. Every attempt at a joke falls flat. Every talent here is wasted. Save yourself.

Dog doesn’t want to get out of a pond on Hampstead Heath.

Two major female characters, both flawed and complicated people, on a journey of self-discovery that has nothing to do with romance or having babies.

Wants to tell a story about how young women are people… which it does by removing the main female character from the narrative for half of the film.

Want to debunk the myth and the mystery of the manic pixie dream girl? There’s a wrong way to do that… and an oh-so marvelously right way.

Of course it’s fun in the “oh my god that’s Benedict Cumberbatch!” sense, but it’s a bit Hamlet for Dummies, or Hamlet’s Greatest Hits.

One last look at the U.K.’s “Sistine Chapel.”

A female villain who isn’t defined by her sexuality helps balance out the underused female sidekick to the good guys (who are, of course, guys).