
The Batman movie review: to bat, or not to bat
No snark, no spandex pantomime spectacle. Just noir mystery, Pattinson’s sad recluse a detective in a cesspit of corruption. Relentlessly grim, all darkness and despair, not escapist but of our time.

No snark, no spandex pantomime spectacle. Just noir mystery, Pattinson’s sad recluse a detective in a cesspit of corruption. Relentlessly grim, all darkness and despair, not escapist but of our time.

Has a verve rare in big-budget movies at the moment. Fun and fresh and legitimately engages with its source material on the levels of story, visuals, and mythology all at once. It feels like discovering storytelling anew.

It certainly is MORE than the first movie: more incoherent, more confused about who its protagonist is, more crammed with contrivance and coincidence. Even the title is more nonsensical this time.

Taraji P. Henson gets mad, Andie MacDowell gets sad, Edie Falco gets activist, Toni Collette does a science, and more…

Quick takes from the now-wrapped 61st London Film Festival.

Not without its problems, but mostly a smart, engaging, bigotry-busting escapade with a hugely appealing young cast and an unflaggingly cheerful optimism.

Astonishing. Achieves its grotesque, magnificent brutality in an old-fashioned way that serves as a smackdown to bloated, sterile CGI monstrosities.

No, it’s not wildly different than other science fiction, hero’s journey, and adventure movies. Sometimes we call such stories archetypal. Mythic, even.