
No Escape movie review: start the revolution without them
Enjoyably intense, if you can get past the cultural narcissism that Western corporate colonialism only matters when it impacts a nice white American family.

Enjoyably intense, if you can get past the cultural narcissism that Western corporate colonialism only matters when it impacts a nice white American family.

Disjointed, incohesive, and psychologically ridiculous. And actually repulsive on multiple levels in ways that the first film was not.

All homophobic, xenophobic, scatological grossout, with some rape and pedophilia “jokes” for flavor. How did this happen?

A breath of half-nasty, half-nice fresh air, set somewhere near the intersection between a parody of a romantic comedy and a straight-up example of one.

An achingly perfect evocation of New York’s East Village in the 1980s and an amazing cast cannot make this tale of adolescent anxiety catch fire.

Subjuvenile and offensive, sentimental and ridiculous. Every attempt at a joke falls flat. Every talent here is wasted. Save yourself.

Want to debunk the myth and the mystery of the manic pixie dream girl? There’s a wrong way to do that… and an oh-so marvelously right way.

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

A Scorsese-esque look, fascinating and horrifying, at the 1990s NYPD scandal that saw cops become the biggest, baddest gang on the city streets.

This desperately terrible children’s fantasy is an unpleasant mishmash of dated slapstick, unwittingly sinister adventure, and icky magic.