Dull, earnest fanfic full of halfhearted secret-agent shenanigans and a misguided rethink of Chamberlain the appeaser. Same-old rote, by-the-number World War II–ing we’ve seen countless times before.
An electrifying work of high-wire cinematic theater, a one-take, one-location wonder. Documentary-esque but even more immediate, simultaneously intimate and explosive. Stephen Graham is glorious.
Fresh, raw, wielding physical and psychological intimacy like a shiv, this is a deeply compelling, empathetic emotional roller coaster fueled by McAvoy’s and Horgan’s intense and cutting performances.
Honest, compassionate, and very necessary, this is a provocation, a challenge to our individual and cultural preconceived notions about and neurotic relationships to food, weight, and body image.
Brilliantly tantalizing, bursting with creative enthusiasm and bouncy energy, this cheeky work of artistic activism is out to subvert our debt-driven economy. Who says smashing injustice can’t be fun?
A deeply compassionate, deeply unnerving portrait of a man suffering from dementia and losing his grip on reality. The empathy machine of cinema has rarely been put to such uncomfortably intimate use.
Ejiofor and Hathaway are game, but they’re grasping for something solid, and don’t find it. A deeply unsatisfying novelty artifact of the pandemic that fails to create a necessary sense of transgression.
I got an email yesterday from a reader, in response to my #LockdownDailyWalk posts, who was all, “Hey, I thought you couldn’t afford to live in the cool parts of London, what’s up?”
A triumph. McQueen brings history to life and makes it sing with zest and passion, with a spirit that endures beyond the strife. A celebration of Black joy alongside a raging against Black oppression.
An uneasy jolt of (pop) culture clash and assimilation angst. Unsettling and electrifying; near-nightmarish and absolutely mesmerizing. Riz Ahmed oozes sweat and rage, pride and power.