
Pacific Rim review: the world goes to war
A war movie in the grandest tradition, set in a rich new fictional universe that we’re going to be talking about for a long time.

A war movie in the grandest tradition, set in a rich new fictional universe that we’re going to be talking about for a long time.

Most of it makes no sense at all, but who cares? This is cheerful ridiculousness pulled off with panache.

Dangerous sports smacks up against towering ambition in this sensationally accomplished documentary to ask a universal question: How far do you go in order to be who you were born to be?

Even when Walken, Pacino, and Arkin are phoning it in — on a rotary phone — they still earn their status as icons.

Some of it is hilariously awful, and some is just plain awful. But Statham’s attempt to be taken seriously as an actor is honest, at least.

In an almost terrifying reversal from the first film, this is crude, racist, and sexist, in entirely well-worn ways. (But the Minions are still funny.)

Has no guts of any kind: it has absolutely nothing to say, and it takes a long, dull, circuitous route to get to that nothing.

Towers with ambition, swelled by sweeping philosophies about power and presence on scales both planetary and personal, beautifully balanced by a wellspring of wry tragedy.

I died laughing… and I’ve found a new respect for a Hollywood posse whose work I mostly haven’t enjoyed before.

A whole lotta WTF folded into a derivative, misogynist, and just plain incoherent mess.