
The Death of Stalin movie review: the great dictator
Audacious, outrageous, bleakly funny. Not since Charlie Chaplin sent up Hitler and invited us to laugh at terrible reality has there been a movie like this.

Audacious, outrageous, bleakly funny. Not since Charlie Chaplin sent up Hitler and invited us to laugh at terrible reality has there been a movie like this.

Style and humor galore, and a hugely entertaining performance from Tom Cruise. But should a true story of immense governmental corruption be quite this fun?

Bitter, snide, and ultimately brutal, exactly the movie about social media we deserve; a satire that is barely satirical. Aubrey Plaza is hashtag savage.

Toho’s reboot of its most famous kaiju is, amidst intense monster action, a bitter satire on bureaucracy and a cautionary tale about humanity’s collective folly.

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

Wonderfully strange and weird and funny and dark and bitter. A deliciously geek-flavored metaphor for how damaged people heedlessly spread around their damage.

A 90-minute shootout that never makes us care who lives and who dies. In attempting to send up a cinematic cliché, this only becomes a tedious example of same.

A one-note scenario that never ups the ante on itself, and never even bothers to use its extreme situation to send up office politics or corporate policies.

The sparse, cold satisfaction that could be wrung from Trainspotting’s punk insolence has been replaced by an exhausted cynicism. Which is exactly right.

Shattering and deep-down bone-chilling. A viciously unsettling nightmare of race and privilege that carves out a much-needed paradigm shift for genre film.