
I, Daniel Blake movie review: this is our shame
Lefty, loud, proud (and heartbreaking and infuriating with it). Rages against systems once meant to help people that have become machines intended to crush them.

Lefty, loud, proud (and heartbreaking and infuriating with it). Rages against systems once meant to help people that have become machines intended to crush them.

Take True Lies and Mr. & Mrs. Smith. Remove wit, sexy charm, and satire on marriage. This is a recipe for a movie anyone wants to see?

Jack Reacher is back. And no one seems to know why. Low stakes, a rote plot, and undistinguished action add up to a pointless and unnecessary sequel.

Completely absurd, ultimately pointless, but also gloriously goofy: a Nancy Drew mystery with Scooby-Doo overtones and a thin veneer of bookishness.

Sly observations on American hypocrisy, a fresh father-daughter dynamic, and terrific performances elevate this a cut above the typical revenge thriller.

An imperfect adaptation of an uncinematic novel is nevertheless a challenging portrait of a woman as deeply screwed up as usually only men get to be onscreen.

A tough, simple story about a foster kid whose path to finding a family and a home is not an easy one. There are no platitudes here, just bittersweet truth.

Dementedly creepy punk body-horror grossout comedy plays like a padded-out short. But Natasha Lyonne and Chloë Sevigny have a ball as cheerful wastrels.

Quick takes from the 60th London Film Festival, with public screenings from October 5th-16th, 2016.

Relentlessly dull. A tour of a strange world and “characters” little more than their “peculiar” abilities isn’t enough to whip up fantastical excitement.