
Moomins on the Riviera movie review: really old-fashioned adventure
The hand-drawn animation is serene and charming, but the story and characters are so unpleasantly retrograde that I found little enjoyment here.

The hand-drawn animation is serene and charming, but the story and characters are so unpleasantly retrograde that I found little enjoyment here.

Overly complicated yet somehow anticlimactic, and constructed more with pat Hollywood pomp rather than the authentic grit it demands.

Solid biopic of the godfather of funk and soul, but there’s not much genuinely memorable about it beyond Chadwick Boseman’s stunning breakout performance.

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.

Director Clint Eastwood’s discomfort with his own material is enormous and obvious. Does he just not get pop music, or is he actively disdainful and suspicious of it?
A cry-till-you-laugh-dramedy about seeking lost family and finding new purpose; Judi Dench and Steve Coogan are fantastic. Seriously, though: bring Kleenex.

Ridiculously charming as it spins a deliciously retro kitsch magic. (new DVD/VOD UK)

It’s a puzzlement. How did Michael Winterbottom make a film this tediously conservative?
If you didn’t know that Jack Kerouac’s novel was a seminal influence on postwar America, you would never, ever guess it from this lifeless, soulless, pointless adaptation.
Yes, even when it’s 90 in the shade. Hussy.