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Cursed twins who speak in faux-byronic enigmas, a crumbling manse full of dead birds and velvet drapes, and strained psychosexual nonsense. There’s nothing eerie here, just the puerile and misjudged.
An all-style and very-little-substance exercise in random oddity and weird imagery. Dispenses with engaging characters and revels in its own meaninglessness as if emptiness were deep and significant.
Classic comic-book stuff made fresh by drawing on underexplored mythologies and cultures, yet still deeply resonant and deeply universal. An exhilarating pulp-fiction dream that ups the ante on the Marvel Cinematic Universe.
Tosses out the very sentiments that make Beatrix Potter’s work so beloved and so enduring in favor of the sullen bratty championing of cruelty and disenchantment. Nihilistic money-grubbing garbage.
The story of a fascinating woman retold in the most reductive, least resonant way possible, while actually sidelining her. Even cast as a simple haunted-house tale, it’s not even a little bit scary.
A huge disappointment, crude and simple compared to Aardman’s earlier, more sophisticated and multilayered work. No satire or subversion, just a bog-standard triumph-of-the-underdog story.
Trolls the viewer and condescends to genre fans. A smirking, tone-deaf parable about racism that is itself racist, including about its made-up orcs and elves.
Culturally clueless cinematic vomit, a cynical undertaking embracing the most diminishing clichés it can apply to its characters. Low stakes, and low humor.
Upends expectations, demythologizes the mythos, and takes an iconic series in a bold new direction with a story full of humor, courage, and dazzling imagery.
Goofy, charming, faithful to its sweet source material, and all while advancing the standard “Be yourself” message with fresh challenges to gender expectations.
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