
The Man from U.N.C.L.E. movie review: Cold War, lukewarm
Guy Ritchie’s spy-themed GQ fashion shoot. Pure popcorn nonsense, sleek and chic and vaguely funny, but instantly forgettable.

Guy Ritchie’s spy-themed GQ fashion shoot. Pure popcorn nonsense, sleek and chic and vaguely funny, but instantly forgettable.

Works for your appreciation with gasp-inducing action sequences and an ethos that has fun with its legacy while moving in a new direction.

If there’s a thriller to be found in international travel regulations, this is not it. Makes a mockery of the unsung heroes it’s meant to celebrate.

Does some wonderfully seditious feminist things while also being funny as hell. Finally, we are asked to laugh with Melissa McCarthy, not at her.

Too long, too convoluted, too sentimental, and too ridiculous. Some will say those are its good points. Will they embrace the homoeroticism too?

This mysteriously misbegotten flick should be a gritty 10-hour miniseries so it would have time to explore its ideas and potentially fascinating characters.

I cannot recall a film that left me with such a sour taste in my mouth by its end. Does the movie deliberately defy itself with obnoxious intent?

Gloriously bonkers. Like, Looney Tunes levels of cartoon madness. You will laugh your homo sapiens head off.

A smart, classy, slow-burn thriller made up of the stuff of authentic spy work and plenty of bitter irony about modern geopolitics.

If it’s meant to be a spy thriller, it’s not exciting. If it’s meant to be a comedy, it’s not funny. If it’s meant to be dumb, absurd, and risible, it’s a success.