Arctic Tale (review)
This powerfully moving documentary gives us an adorable baby polar bear and a cute baby walrus, creatures struggling to survive among the melting ice of the North Pole.
This powerfully moving documentary gives us an adorable baby polar bear and a cute baby walrus, creatures struggling to survive among the melting ice of the North Pole.
Bad is easy: this level of awful approaches the genius.
Oh my god and wonder of wonders, here we have a studio movie — a drama! — starring not one but two actors-of-color. God, what a terrible phrase. Don’t we all have a color? Okay: two actors who aren’t the usual medium peachy-beige of those who typically get to star in studio movies unless their name is Denzel Washington.
It’s good to see Groening and Co. back on their game again — it feels like it’s been a while since the TV show made me laugh this hard…
*Hairspray* couldn’t be more charming and joyous, more get-up-and-dance toe-tapping, more simply agreeable. If bringing Broadway to the masses works this well, well, why the hell not?
Can the occasion of overgrown-fratboy goofball Adam Sandler and resolutely vanilla sitcom dad Kevin James in fagface be anything other than an invitation to laugh at icky queery flamboyant homos?
‘Six Feet Under’ meets ‘My Blue Heaven’…
It’s a familiar movie trope: the Mother From Hell. But Brenda Blethyn makes her an unmissable combination of love and angst and fear and warmth.
Bittersweet and deeply, achingly romantic, this perfect, perfect film — based on Susan Minot’s novel — enfolds regrets and memories and love and hope in the snug embrace of a story of how one moment can send us careening down a path we never expected.
Can a film be poised and belligerent at the same time?