Zellweger inhabits Garland so fully that we quickly forget that there’s just an actor behind the makeup.
Author Rich Heimlich
I love movies, tech, politics, games and more. I've been writing professionally since 1985 and, thankfully, have worked with some of the best editors in the business. I never planned to be a writer. It just kept happening. I always tell people I don't believe in fate but that fate seems intent on believing in me. I'm also a proud member of the Philadelphia Film Critics Circle and the Broadcast Film Critics Association.
To call this a lighter version of Twilight Struggle understates the situation entirely.
Returning director Andy Muschietti draws every ounce of stress out of every nail-biting sequence.
Picks itself up from a trash heap of clichés and ill-conceived casting to overcome its flawed foundation.
There’s just one major problem with the whole affair: it’s morbid.
The fourth installment of this venerable franchise returns with a surprisingly touching tale.
Starts off with a dramatic opening scene that’s vintage Elton, but soon bogs down under the weight of an unmistakable identity crisis.
If you can stave off the initial boredom, the plot takes off like a rocket for the film’s second half.
It packs a lesson every bit as pertinent today as it was nearly five decades ago.