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A series of amazing music videos featuring astonishingly athletic dancers expressing crazy-hot modern choreography strung together by a flimsy narrative. Kinda like old-school Hollywood musicals were.
Just another rote space adventure. It’s not actively awful, but there isn’t a single damn thing in the least bit surprising or memorable about it.
This biopic of “fashion’s little prince” offers all the elegant precision of a fashion shoot — it’s beautiful, and cold — but lacks a lot of necessary context.
An almost complete waste of a talented cast, and all to, apparently, convince teenaged girls that sex isn’t worth the hassle. Say what?
A hugely satisfying ode to entrepreneurial creativity, and a glorious love letter to New York City and the art it inspires. I love this movie so much.
An inoffensive time-passer for youngsters, but adult genre fans who recall the 80s classics it draws on — E.T. and The Goonies — will be bored.
Compulsively watchable. Joe Swanberg is a master of subtle dramatic observation, and his films are unlike anything other filmmakers are giving us right now.
Grading on the Ratner Curve, this is a positive triumph. The cheesy clichés are at least passingly entertaining. You could do worse.
Terry Gilliam descends into near self-parody with this mess of a mind-frak about a mathematical formula for the meaning of life that has little to say.
Doubles down on the first film’s angry approach to inequality and violence, and again reflects an image of America that is ugly but only slightly distorted.
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