Amsterdam is a plethora of pomp, but little requisite circumstance.
A flawless deconstruction of the unholy trinity of truth, honor and avarice.
The Eyes of Tammy Faye keeps all (other) eyes on Jessica Chastain as she inhabits the controversial first lady of televangelism.
It immediately reminds us of Goodfellas, and the comparison does this film no favors.
Zellweger inhabits Garland so fully that we quickly forget that there’s just an actor behind the makeup.
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.
First Man attempts to bring color to a man who embodied the dull grays of the very surface to which he will forever be anchored.
The magic evaporates faster than the honey in Pooh’s pot.
Mark Felt’s high-stakes machinations keep the audience engaged, but only from a distance.