Has a verve rare in big-budget movies at the moment. Fun and fresh and legitimately engages with its source material on the levels of story, visuals, and mythology all at once. It feels like discovering storytelling anew.
A Star Wars–flavored juice drink* of a movie (*contains 10% real juice) that tells us nothing of significance we didn’t already know about Han Solo, in an incarnation that lacks his essential charisma and precarious danger.
A beach-slap to anyone with a brain. Embodies everything that is wrong with Hollywood today. It is proudly dumb. It is proudly sexist. It is proudly pointless.
Funnier even than the first film, nonstop self-deprecation that doles out well-deserved smacks to about 817 Hollywood things that desperately deserve it.
You’ve seen this all before — it’s Toy Story meets The Matrix — just not done in Legos.
I hadn’t been expecting anything from 21 Jump Street, and it turned out to be hilarious.
The calendar has turned, a new year is here, and it’s a good time to look ahead.