The cast is, on paper, terrific, but there’s nothing engaging in their bloody savagery. A misfire of a supposed action comedy, this mind-numbing mess is by turns grating, tedious, and infuriating.
With its melancholy regret and bittersweet nostalgia, this is far superior to the 1986 blockbuster. But as the sun goes down on American imperialism here, the last-gasp celebration of it unsettles.
Cold War propaganda that is weirdly apolitical. Sunny, breezy homoeroticism that is surely unintentional. What a hoot this is! Mostly not in a good way, but its impact on pop culture cannot be denied.
Amusing but instantly forgettable, fueled by a self-congratulatory smugness and self-reference. The best bits are the sincere stuff: a scene-stealing Pedro Pascal and a sweetly vulnerable Nic(k) Cage.
A snappy, snarky, never-ever sentimental concoction of cartoon chaos meets hip heist flick. Its breezy swagger extends to the delightful animation, organic and mellow, hot and cool at the same time.
A screaming deluge of metal and rubber devoid of drama, suspense, and elegance. Instead it’s random vehicular chaos enacted with the same energy of a four-year-old smashing his toys into one another.
Feels less like a movie than it does a hostage video. Poor Liam Neeson isn’t trying to hide how exhausted and trapped he is in his cinematic hamster wheel of cheap, violent revenge thrillers. It’s sad.
Absolutely hilarious Icelandic sendup of action buddy cop movies. Knowing, sneaky, and deliciously deadpan, upending toxic masculinity and elevating the usual subtext of the genre to the overt text.
In the era of COVID and Brexit, much of this overstuffed adventure feels redundant, farcical, inconsequential, and desperate. But Ana de Armas and Lashana Lynch show us the way to a future for 007.
Messy sci-fi comedy, cheerful on the surface but nihilistic underneath, is utterly clueless about all the things it is almost about: AI, gaming, and the bread-and-circuses power of immersive worlds.