Finds something fresh and gently feminist in the tropes and claptrap of an overbaked genre. Stewart and Davis have terrific chemistry, and the supporting cast of modern legends of funny is to die for.
Woefully bad feint at a dramedy in which everyone agrees the “hero” is a terrible excuse for a man… and he gets the message that he is awesome anyway.
A quietly horrifying, solidly entertaining medical procedural that makes no bones about the terrible damage American football causes to its players.
Like a midseason episode of a basic-cable detective show you’ve never heard of.
How do you manage child care while doing all the footwork required to plan your wife’s prison break? It sounds ridiculous, and it should be ridiculous up on the screen. But Russell Crowe makes it work in ways that far exceed any expectations we should honestly have for such a preposterous potboiler of a concept.
I must say that it’s awfully generous of Hollywood, after engaging in a decades-long campaign to winnow down the image of what it’s acceptable for a woman to look like if she expects to be received in polite company — or any kind of company at all, in fact — to finally acknowledge the impact this has had on real people.
Summer of 1987. Oh, these kids are my temporal peeps.