The entire film feels like it’s stuck in a post-coital coma.
Edgy with a rough-hewn style and the grace of a gorilla ordering a pale Pouilly-Fuissé.
A drawn-out reminder of “the grass is always greener” syndrome.
Feels as if del Toro borrowed and updated a campy 1950s sci-fi thriller.
Rattles us with an authenticity not often found in films of its era.
A captivating, unrelenting tale that takes no prisoners.
A shockingly empty expanse of unresolved questions and unrealized potential.
This big-budget mess amounts more to a minor tremor than a full-scale disasterpiece.
This drama perfectly paints a picture that few have any interest in displaying.
The plot and believability melt away to nothing over the course of the film.
Mark Felt’s high-stakes machinations keep the audience engaged, but only from a distance.