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It barely scratches the surface of the enormous audacity of WWII photographer Lee Miller, but still this is an important movie. It’s also joyous filmmaking, with terrific performances all around.
Everything about this astonishing, just-plain-satisfying film feels like a revelation. Bone-deep subversive yet universal, dripping with a quiet dread yet also beautiful and beautifully wise.
Everything a monster movie needs: Monsters, natch. Cute kids who Know Things. Nerdy-hot scientists. Spectacular sci-fi visions. Humor but no cheese. Warmth but no schmaltz. And a superb green message.
House of Cards as a satirical workplace comedy, with just a touch of rom-com thrown in to render it genuinely sweetly sexy. Theron and Rogen share palpable chemistry, both comic and romantic.
Post WWII upheaval is a cheap backdrop to beautiful people getting it on. Characters and situations are undeveloped, and there’s little genuine romance here, and too much laughable preposterousness.
I’m floored by its breakdown of toxic masculinity and toxic femininity… [This post is not behind the paywall.]
Filtering other people’s stories through the eyes of white men is tedious and offensive, and it feels like a desperate hedge against fresh perspectives.
Defies the clichés with which women are treated onscreen by turning the tropes of exploitation into expressions of a woman’s ownership of her sexuality.
It shouldn’t be radical to see a movie treat a girl with this level of appreciation and understanding of her most intimate inner self. Yet it is.
Brit Marling never knows what to do with her great ideas. She runs them right up to a moment when all that electric potential zaps itself out of existence in a flash.
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