
Every Secret Thing movie review: skeletons in the heart
A slow burn mystery in which the secrets aren’t so much about the crimes it explores but truths of women’s emotional lives that are too often ignored.

A slow burn mystery in which the secrets aren’t so much about the crimes it explores but truths of women’s emotional lives that are too often ignored.

Most of the female ensemble are crude stereotypes, but a few central characters are robust, with complex goals that have nothing to do with romance. [This post is not behind the paywall.]

Some sweet sisterhood and truly fantastic musical performances get dragged down by awkward, lazy, embarrassing attempts at humor.

If you don’t think it’s hilarious that a woman dressed for a night out would “naturally” be mistaken for a prostitute, there is nothing here for you.

You’ve seen this all before — it’s Toy Story meets The Matrix — just not done in Legos.
What’s charming and fun here gets a little overwhelmed by too much grossout stuff.
A mealy, wan attempt at a black comedy.
I’m gonna hope that perhaps the fantastic cast here will make yet one more tale of a man fucking up endurable.
Chris Pine can’t tell Elizabeth Banks he’s her brother. I’m sure there’s a completely sensible reason for this. *facepalm*
It’s intended to be delightful, but it feels as long as a pregnancy itself, this roundrobin of forcefully interconnected tales of incipient parenthood.