A masterpiece? No. A Céline Dion biopic? Sort of. A vision you could never anticipate and may never see again? Completely.
A beautifully bloody empty shell, which is just enough for me.
Deep Water gets bogged down by familiar and pedantic elements of an erotic thriller that feels 65 years old.
Pokes at insecurities and comforts we can neither fully grasp nor avoid.
The Batman is, quite simply, a ponderous bore.
We will remember damage, to mangle a repeated line from the show. It’s cathartic to imagine what we will do with it.
A bland romance at the center of an often stunning film.
Miranda gets across a deep, earnest appreciation of Larson, Garfield plunges into the melodrama, and the film becomes a fitting homage to a man whose work is both important and worthy of critique.