
Mortdecai movie review: stinking mishap
This painfully unfunny spoof of teddibly British nonsense couldn’t be less amusing if it were actually calculated to be totally laugh-free.

This painfully unfunny spoof of teddibly British nonsense couldn’t be less amusing if it were actually calculated to be totally laugh-free.

Outside an ice-cream takeout place in Chinatown.

Set almost entirely among a crew of WWII bombardiers and a prisoner-of-war camp, women are all but absent from this film. And that’s okay. [This post is not behind the paywall.]

Simultaneously the dullest and the most insulting version of itself it could possibly be. If only it had managed to be campy, that’d be something…

Graffiti spotted on the Upper East Side.

I hope the bank’s security goes beyond a guy with a hat and a six-shooter.

Except for fleeting glimpses and references, women are entirely absent from this story. But here’s a rare instance where that’s actually legitimate. [This post is not behind the paywall.]

A bit of sly commentary on how tough it can be for a woman in a “man’s” job gives this historical drama some very 21st-century feminist relevance. [This post is not behind the paywall.]

Not part of the British Tesco family, I presume.

The film would not exist if Edward Snowden had not known of documentarian Laura Poitras as a fearless journalist and entrusted her with his story. [This post is not behind the paywall.]