
The Riot Club movie review: bad boys never lose
Hooray for a good old-fashioned rich-bastard bashing. But they get the last laugh: These guys are the future masters of the universe. Hooray.

Hooray for a good old-fashioned rich-bastard bashing. But they get the last laugh: These guys are the future masters of the universe. Hooray.

A very simplistic Dystopia for Dummies — with a bit of Terrence Malick for Dummies — and inoffensive enough until it devolves into all kinds of stupid.

A flimsy trifle, but a diverting one. Colin Firth is absolutely hilarious, and the re-creation of the 1920s French Riviera is gorgeous.

An unclassifably weird hybrid of documentary, fiction, and stream-of-consciousness meditation on the creative life, according to Renaissance man Nick Cave.

Very effective in creating an unsettling mood, but its horrific, fantastic speculation ends, frustratingly, just when it could have gotten really intriguing.

One of the rare movies that gets absolutely everything right, bursting with happy-tears emotion about solidarity, friendship, and smashing bigotry.

There’s a fine line between baroque and grotesque… and The Boxtrolls crosses it. Here is a film that actively makes you want to look away.

THE SOFT PRETTY ENGLISH ACTOR: I’m tired of all these damn television costume drama roles. Get me something totally badass.

When it finally collapses under the weight of its own preposterousness, this would-be elegant thriller becomes a cheap retrograde melodrama.

Low-key black comedy and sporadic horror lazily pop up among the crime drama, but never enough of either to score many zings.