
Mad Max: Fury Road movie review: warlords is hell
Astonishing. Achieves its grotesque, magnificent brutality in an old-fashioned way that serves as a smackdown to bloated, sterile CGI monstrosities.

Astonishing. Achieves its grotesque, magnificent brutality in an old-fashioned way that serves as a smackdown to bloated, sterile CGI monstrosities.

A compassionate, distressing tale of a woman’s determination to find her own purpose, full of heartbreaking moments that pile up until they’re unbearable.

Two films about poor black teen girls offer harrowing — and very universal — portraits of how our culture tries to crush the spirit out of all girls.

Writer, director, and star Chris Rock is so close to something great here, but he gives in too easily to the unchallenging and the very conventional.

A pleasant and undemanding romantic drama that takes great care not to upset you unduly with strong emotion or embarrassing passion.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen a smarter, warmer, more honest depiction of human sexuality than this roundrobin of emotion and attraction. I love this movie.

This spectacularly ill-conceived movie is what happens when a cheap ripoff cannot even rise to the level of crass Hollywood junk.

There’s little less compelling than a vague evil spirit with loosely defined powers doing random “scary” things as required by the script.

Ridiculously romantic in all the best ways, and more modern, more progressive, and even just plain more grownup that half the movies thrown at us today.

Julianne Moore’s terror at watching her own emotional and intellectual life slip away is palpable, and much scarier to me than any slasher movie.