
Zootropolis (aka Zootopia) movie review: creature feature
Marvelous. A bouncy comedy mystery adventure parable in a fantasy world meticulously and cleverly conceived and gorgeously realized. I adore this movie.

Marvelous. A bouncy comedy mystery adventure parable in a fantasy world meticulously and cleverly conceived and gorgeously realized. I adore this movie.

Initially intriguing detective tale of ancient Rome hops genres into fantasy, with a strange manic-preacher-dream-boy seduction of its pragmatic protagonist.

Amenábar aims for a noirish X-Files vibe, but preposterousness rules this inert trudge that does absolutely no justice to a terrible real-life phenomenon.

Inexcusably self-indulgent. Tarantino gratifies his enormous self-love and his amusement at his own genius at the expense of all else.

It looks lovely and Ian McKellen is amazing, of course, but it’s not very Holmesian. I suspect Holmes himself would snort in derision at its sentimentality.

Not even Catherine Deneuve can save this dramatically inert soap opera of corruption and obsession, which does not even resolve its central mystery.

Plausibility isn’t in the cards for this odious excuse for a thriller. This is all about sexy danger, for sociopathic, misogynistic values of “sexy danger.”

A slow burn mystery in which the secrets aren’t so much about the crimes it explores but truths of women’s emotional lives that are too often ignored.

This isn’t only another rote slasher movie, full of ridiculous coincidences and obvious red herrings: it’s actually worse than that, yet thinks it’s clever.

This painfully unfunny spoof of teddibly British nonsense couldn’t be less amusing if it were actually calculated to be totally laugh-free.