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It’s not as daring as its endearing protagonist, and its fantastical scenario plays out rather lifelessly. But its gentle exploration of the fluidity of human physical and emotional expression is very welcome.
This is scorched-earth cinema that challenges us to find moments of grace and triumph among misery, cruelty, and emotional frugality. Maxine Peake is absolutely incendiary.
Infinitely small, petty, cruel; appallingly sociopathic even grading on the dumpster-fire-horror-flick curve. But forget the supernatural element: the human “drama” is the most ridiculous thing here.
Transforms a straightforward story of domestic violence into something like a horror movie, and it’s so harrowing and so incredibly tense that I’m not sure that it’s not exploitive.
An incredibly inspiring story about two young women who come back from dehumanizing experiences to advocate for change. A film of great grace, dignity, beauty, and power.
A tart, sharp, life-affirming dramedy, one that is slightly more edgy and far less predictable than it probably has any right to be. Celia Imrie and Imelda Staunton are magnificent.
What starts out as a genial drawing-room satire on class and snobbery soon turns to a sly romantic comedy about the fantasy of romance and the crushing expectations placed on women.
An apocalypse unlike any onscreen before. A film often almost unbearably tense, in part because it audaciously reconsiders the role sound plays in eliciting our emotional response.
It’s too predictable and too disingenuous about the realities of what it means to be an “older” woman. But Sharon Stone is totally charming.
It’s oddly structured, doesn’t seem to know whom its audience is, and indulges in too much distracting grossout humor. But the sex-positive message and the delightful cast make it just about worthwhile.
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