
Magic in the Moonlight movie review: the spirit moves me
A flimsy trifle, but a diverting one. Colin Firth is absolutely hilarious, and the re-creation of the 1920s French Riviera is gorgeous.

A flimsy trifle, but a diverting one. Colin Firth is absolutely hilarious, and the re-creation of the 1920s French Riviera is gorgeous.

One of the rare movies that gets absolutely everything right, bursting with happy-tears emotion about solidarity, friendship, and smashing bigotry.

Low-key black comedy and sporadic horror lazily pop up among the crime drama, but never enough of either to score many zings.

Real-life historical drama about a woman artist ignores her work and focuses instead on a tediously tragic romantic triangle.

The cast is amazing and the film has a certain grim visual beauty. But ultimately there is little here but ugly senselessness.

Appealing performances, a few tweaks to genre clichés, and a sincere desire to counter outrageous racism go a long way toward making this worth a look.

This dreary, drippy period romance is sorely lacking in juicy melodrama and some sizzle among supposed stifled lovebirds.

This biopic of “fashion’s little prince” offers all the elegant precision of a fashion shoot — it’s beautiful, and cold — but lacks a lot of necessary context.

Grading on the Ratner Curve, this is a positive triumph. The cheesy clichés are at least passingly entertaining. You could do worse.

An extraordinary examination of a remarkable photographer, part portrait unraveled by meticulous detective work, part sharp criticism of the hidebound art establishment.