
King Arthur: Legend of the Sword movie review: well I didn’t vote for him
Derivative, rote, devoid of heart and hope. Guy Ritchie has found no reason to retell Arthur’s story, or to render a mythic hero as a self-serving thug.

Derivative, rote, devoid of heart and hope. Guy Ritchie has found no reason to retell Arthur’s story, or to render a mythic hero as a self-serving thug.

The cast is charming, but this listless and mysteriously unfunny cover of the 1949 Ealing comedy doesn’t seem to have bothered to look for a good reason to exist.

Wants to tackle huge personal and societal problems — toxic masculinity; the collapse of traditional ways of life — but it only displays them freak-show style.

Tragic hipster indulges in the tribal Amazonian divine. Credulous, sophomoric garbage full of the slick salesmanship of a vaguely spiritual sneaker commercial.

A rote disappointment. There is nothing shocking or even mildly unexpected here. But there is an ironic weakening of the power of the xenomorphs to terrify.

There’s stuff in this spy thriller that’s fresh, and lots that’s familiar, but Noomi Rapace using her brains and brawn to fight bad guys is a genuine thrill.

A wonderfully silly sendup of fandom and nostalgia… and an absolutely hilarious smackdown of actorly pomposity and delusions of celebrity grandeur.

This melodrama about men unable to express themselves emotionally except through heavy machinery isn’t only clichéd: it doubles down on the clichés.

Wonderfully strange and weird and funny and dark and bitter. A deliciously geek-flavored metaphor for how damaged people heedlessly spread around their damage.

Lesbian and not-quite-sure-if-she’s-a-lesbian have a weekend fling. Sometimes unintentionally hilarious, this is little more than soft-core porn.