
Black Mass movie review: men behaving badly… again
A solid execution of a familiar tale, crammed with a likable, watchable cast. But it doesn’t have anything new to say about why men do despicable things.

A solid execution of a familiar tale, crammed with a likable, watchable cast. But it doesn’t have anything new to say about why men do despicable things.

Marvelously balances the silly and the solemn. There’s almost a whiff of the Coen-esque in its slick sharpness, in its whistling past the graveyard.

Ben Wheatley takes on J.G. Ballard, and it’s a frustrating experience: visually striking but far too literal while aiming for the allegorical.

The traditional Hollywood disaster flick goes to Norway, and is grim and gripping around all the time-honored ridiculous clichés crammed into it.

Beautifully portrays a very universal experience — not only of immigration but of growing up — via an elegantly nuanced performance by Saoirse Ronan.

A fascinating look at the pitfalls of modern journalism, and a compelling portrait of a journalist who paid a high price for letting them trip her up.

Prophecy and politics are intertwined in a realm where strange and beautiful imagery takes on dark meaning, and violence and male posturing rules all.

More theme-park attraction than movie, and paradoxically distastefully self-congratulatory about the Goosebumps phenomenon and insulting toward its author.

You’ve never seen such a compelling, entertaining movie about a genius jerk. As smart and as sleek as a Macbook Pro, and a compulsory bit of modern history.

Pretty much strictly for fans of Ben Foster and Chris O’Dowd, who are both superb here. Probably not for fans of Lance Armstrong (if he still has any left).