
Mindhorn movie review: fame and fatuity
A wonderfully silly sendup of fandom and nostalgia… and an absolutely hilarious smackdown of actorly pomposity and delusions of celebrity grandeur.

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.

An astonishing tale of privilege and power: stark, searing, and brutal, almost a Victorian companion to Get Out. Florence Pugh is a force of nature.

Thinks it’s edgy and transgressive, the punk little brother of all those other stodgy comic-book movies, but it isn’t. It’s just slightly more candy-colored.

This may be Werner Herzog’s most conventional film, but its mostly untold true story knows what it means for a woman to choose a life of adventure and intellect.

Sure, Ice Queen is the villain here. She’s the one who’s in the wrong for doin’ ALL THE THINGS she was supposed to do, and her promised man-prize was stolen.

There’s lots to like in this mostly sweet British Muslim rom-com. Pity, then, that it tries too hard, instead of trusting its characters, and sabotages itself.

Challenging and provocative, but the limitations it places on itself restrict the appreciation for anyone not already steeped in its culture and politics.