We expect a film about a con man to con us, but it’s not fun here: it’s absurd. This limp thriller might fancy itself smart, sharp, twisty, and probably feminist, but it just made me groan out loud.
Like a theme-park mounting of the 1991 cartoon, or the blandified pop version of an enchanting signature character tune. A watered-down pastiche of itself.
It looks lovely and Ian McKellen is amazing, of course, but it’s not very Holmesian. I suspect Holmes himself would snort in derision at its sentimentality.
Might be interesting if it had enough passion and guts to take a stand, but ends up in the mushy middle of the road, which surely sprang from a desire to be “fair” and “balanced.”
The world’s most insipid vampires are back in inaction! Twilight has never been more about people standing around waiting for stuff to happen to them…
Their *Chicago* — based on the stage musical by John Kander, Fred Ebb and Bob Fosse — is utterly singable, danceable, cheerable, with musical numbers that straddle the unwillingness of today’s movie audiences to suspend our disbelief about movie characters breaking into song unless they’re Disney lions or talking candelabra.