Reviews

Even by the standards of Diane Warren films, Breakthrough is one of her most forgotten nominations. Obviously less people have seen Tell It Like a Woman and Four Good Days, but at least they got some online buzz specifically for being so unknown. Has anyone actually even mentioned this movie on here since the 2019/20 Oscar noms? Are we all aware that one of those "my child was in a horrible accident until Jesus saves them" movies has as many Oscar nominations as Jackie Brown?

Criticizing the morality of this movie would get way too complicated way too fast, so I'm just going to gloss over the idea that God can bring people back to life or whatever. But even ignoring all of that, Breakthrough's a total slog to get through and a really underwhelming version of a powerful real-life story.

This movie really, really didn't need to be 2 hours. In particular, almost everything after his miraculous recovery could be excised with almost nothing lost. They want provide a resolution for the son's pre-accident character flaws, but instead of, well, actually doing that, it spins its wheels for about fifteen minutes with pointless, unimpactful scenes of the son meeting the rescue worker, and talking about his experience at his Christian group, and blah, blah, blah. My best guess is that the filmmakers didn't want to attribute his rescue and recovery *solely* to God, but this

Occasionally, Breakthrough flirts with confronting deep questions, but not in any way that's substantial. Near the end, the age-old question of "why would God save this person and not others," is brought up and promptly ignored. The mother's constant confrontations with pretty much everyone but the pastor is portrayed ambiguously, but her perspective is ultimately validated by her son being brought back not by doctors, but through the power of love. And Jesus.

Speaking of Jesus, the entire element of Christianity is poorly integrated into the story. Most egregiously, the entire character of the pastor is a jumble of Bible preaching and trying to be a companion to a person he barely knows. He shows up IMMEDIATELY after the kid's accident, which (despite the fact that the two unpleasant conversations with the mother is the only time he's talked to the family, period) is treated as normal as opposed to really inappropriate. Can someone who's Christian tell me: is it normal for pastors to show up at family crises, even if they are totally unfamiliar with the family itself?

If I didn't know any better, I'd almost say that this was written to be a generic inspirational movie, with the religion added only through rewrites. Half the time you forget it's a Christian movie, until you're suddenly hit with a doctor turning to the camera and saying God is the only explanation for a child's recovery from death. You can't make a semi-Christian movie: either go all-in on your main theme or don't touch on it at all.

Overall, Breakthrough's a sea of boredom and bad writing with only some unintentionally hilarious lines to keep you awake. A few good performances can't save it. I can't say I had any expectations going in but I was still a little let down that it wasn't at least more memorable.

Moving on to "I'm Standing with You." Maybe it's because I've listened to 7 of the song at this point, but I'm Standing With You is one of the blandest songs I've heard in my life. Yeah, the lyrics and gospel choir vaguely fit the theme of the movie, but it's clearly just another basic credits song that's at the end of all of these stupid Christian movies. The first Diane Warren nomination that's actually awful. Y'all complaining about Applause and Fire Inside don't realize how much worse it could be.

Final Score: 42/100.

Tell It Like a Woman was the most intriguing film on the Diane Warren nom lost, simply for how utterly mysterious it was. Barely shown for months, almost no information about the shorts that make up the film, it's all a little exciting to watch such an unknown movie in the day and age of the internet. Now I won't be going through each short individually... is what I would say if there was any substantial documentation of them online, but there really isn't. So permit me to indulge myself and give a mini-overview of each short, plot description included because not even Wikipedia has them listed.

Pepcy and Kim

A convict in rehab combats her inner demons in order to overcome her trauma.

This is awful at such fundamental filmmaking levels that it's frankly appalling that it stars and is directed by two extremely famous actresses. The editing and cinematography are amateurish beyond belief, more comparable to a 90s public access show than an actual movie. Not only that, but the plot is so simplistic and yet so padded-out, and this is barely 17 minutes in length.

At first you think it's going to be about her going through rehab, but after she explains her tragic backstory, it suddenly cuts forward to post-rehab. The second half of the short is an almost entirely unrelated story of said convict being taken to a care facility outside of jail whilst her inner conscience fills her with paranoia, culminating in her

Jarringly, the short ends with some text explaining Kim's future, before even more jarringly cutting to footage of the real Kim extolling the virtues of the organization she founded, which just so happens to be the same organization funding the movie (???). I've never seen a movie, short or otherwise, where the twist ending is that it was based on a true story, let alone having the subject come out of nowhere to explain how great their company is.

The real Kim Carter does seem like an inspiring person, and her organization that helps homeless women is noble. She deserved better. We all deserved better.

Rating: 2/10

Elbows Deep

Two healthcare workers help a homeless woman clean up her living space and take of the many layers of clothing she wears.

Another abject failure, made with all the artistry of an 8-year-old's Littlest Pet Shop video. Catherine Hardwicke clearly knows how to leverage a presumably small budget to create a grungy aesthetic based on her movie Thirteen, but instead of this she bafflingly opts to make it look as low-effort as possible.

But a much bigger problem is the total absence of substance. This is the entire short: text gives context to homeless people living in hotels during COVID, two healthcare workers are assigned to clean up a woman, they clean up the woman, story end. No real progression or structure, just a lot of shots of them taking the woman out of her ridiculously elaborate costume (6 layers, at bare minimum). The card at the end discussing the real doctor and how her story inspired the short is unintentionally funny: no duh a person whose job is to help homeless people helped a homeless person once.

I have no idea why they chose to focus on such a random and relatively inconsequential patient check-up. It doesn't work as a slice of her life because there's no attempt to actually capture her experiences beyond the most superficial level. You can't point a camera at actresses reenacting cutting the clothes off a homeless person and call it a short film.

Rating: 2/10

Lagonegro

A working woman comes to terms with having to take in a young girl.

The blandest of the shorts, bar none. I'm writing this right after finishing the movie and I'm struggling to remember what actually happens in it. It's one of the more plot-heavy segments, but all it really amounts to is the basic plot description I gave above. As is not uncommon with this movie, there are some pretty sloppy moments (incredibly bad audio dubbing, stilted dialogue, even a drawing a woman shooting someone else being explained as a drawing of a woman leaving her home behind), but none that actually make it memorable or interesting. Not a whole lot to say with this one, really, just a nothing short.

Rating: 4.5/10

A Week in My Life

A week in the life of a Japanese single mom.

Easily the best short here. It's not overly ambitious, it doesn't reinvent the wheel, but it accomplishes its goal with warmth and artistry. The low-budget-ness is for once used to the short's advantage to give it a really down-to-earth feel, which lends to its authenticity.

It's certainly not perfect-the exact moments shown of her as the week goes on feel arbritrary as opposed to, say, the moments that aren't a part of her typical routine, for starters-but it's far more competent and successful than anything else here. A bit like a less austere Jeanne Dielman.

Rating: 7/10

Unspoken

A veterinarian stays late for her last assignment of the night, but something's off about the patients.

I appreciate the concept of viewing domestic abuse from the perspective of a complete stranger, if for no other reasons than it's not a common plotline, nor is it presented to the audience up-front. With that said, there's almost no nuance to the proceedings whatsoever once it become clear what's going on, and at that point it just goes through the motions of getting the girl safe and the guy arrested. Plus, the whole subplot of missing her daughter's ice-skating video is dropped completely.

With all that said, it's fairly competent on a filmmaking basis, with some solid acting. Rough around the edges but decent for what it is.

Ratings 5.5/10

Sharing a Ride

A plastic surgeon has a chance encounter with a prostitute.

Despite being the most visually appealing and longest short, it's also easily the most confusing and directionless. There are pieces here of a woman learning to care for others and ditch her materialism, but it's an unassembled jigsaw puzzle rather than a coherent plot. Scenes have no purpose, locations and times change abruptly, character motivation is an ancient myth. There's a lengthy abstract song number in the middle that perhaps was intended to represent the main character's journey, but that falls flat given how literal everything else is.

This is the only film to contain "Applause" itself, and it is a surprisingly fitting track for when the protagonist tosses off her expensive symbolic shoes and dances in the rain to let loose for once in her life. But a solid ending doesn't save this.

Rating: 3/10

Aria

An animated segment that follows a grey creature breaking free from its prison of gender roles.

There's some tough competition, but this might actually be the worst short in the whole movie. Putting aside the fact that it's wildly out of place even by the standard of this movie, putting side Ernst the animation is an early-2000s eyesore, the story itself is insanely simplistic and has absolutely nothing to offer. There's "on-the-nose," and then there's having people trapped in a box where they're forced to watch and imitate the stereotypically masculine-feminine actions on their screen.

But even this premise only sustains the movie for around a minute, because once the first grey blob breaks free and sets forth saving everyone, there's no substantial "commentary" left, just that overcoming gender roles set you free (which was already an implied message obvious to anyone over the age of 8).

Rating: 2/10

As a whole, Tell It Like a Woman is somehow even less than the sum of its parts. The shorts have so little in common besides "women" that I have to wonder if most of them were even created for the movie in the first place. There's no justification for shoddily assembled biopics, quiet and reserved examinations of day-to-day life, and a children's cartoon about being yourself all being the same movie. The one short was good, but not nearly good enough to salvage the experience from the other trainwrecks.

"Applause" is plays three times in the movie (the last two are during the credits, one right after another, the very last being a seldom-heard upbeat remix), and as the only thing 99% of people will know this movie for, I like it. "You're a supernova superstar" might be one of the worst lyrics Warren's ever written, but otherwise there's nothing bad in here. The tune's pretty solid, and Carson's voice is really distinct in a way that adds to the song. Not a masterpiece but far better than the movie it's from.

Final score: 28/100.

In a day and age where most movies are steeped in cynicism, there's something oddly refreshing about Nyad. Yes, parts may be clunky, it may take a while to get going, and it doesn't reinvent the biopic formula, but it's still an ultimately successful crowdpleaser.

In terms of its inspirational story, Nyad follows a pretty straightforward plot of the titular characters attempts to swim from Cuba to Florida. This underdog/triumph of the human spirit storyline is by no means new, but it's handled here with honesty and care. The start of things is rough-the first actual shot of Bening as Nyad is almost unintentionally funny, and it's pretty obvious that the actors are not totally comfortable with their characters early on. But, much like Nyad herself, the movie gets better over time as the technical quality improves and the actors are able to flex their skills, and by the end you're cheering right alongside the crowds for her success.

Diana Nyad, as a figure, is quite complicated. There's no doubt that she's has some incredible achievements, but she's also been reported as self-centered, dishonest, and in general rather controversial. Walking in to Nyad, I feared that the filmmakers would opt to completely gloss over this to be more simple (and palatable to Oscar voters), but thankfully this is not the case. The movie chugs along with its traditional empowerment story, but along the way there's tension between Nyad and her companions as her arrogance threatens to derail the swim. A lesson about "the power of teamwork" may seem cliche, and to an extent, it is. But the movie's exploration of the way perceptions change based on your own humility adds an interesting texture to the proceedings that not all filmmakers would seek to include.

One of the most talked-about things regarding this movie is the acting, and for the most part, it delivers. Annette Bening as Nyad is thoroughly convincing and able to sell this rather idealistic yet egocentric woman without being totally unlikable, and the physical strength it must have taken to perform the swimming is impressive. It takes a while for her to fully warm up to the role, but once she does it's a strong turn. Bening had a job and she delivered.

But the star of the show here is Jodie Foster. She imbues her character with so much personality and life force that she disappears into the role and is easily the best part about the whole film. Foster's not given amazing dialogue to work with, and yet through sheer talent, she pulls the movie together to craft a complex portrait of a woman torn between dedication to her friend and her own self-actualization. If nothing else, watch this movie for her performance.

In the age of streaming this is exactly the sort of thing to fall under the radar were it not for awards season, but it has more heart than most film's you can find on Netflix. This is not an incredibly well-made movie, but it doesn't need to be. The core thing that makes a story like this work is the emotional impact, and it delivers. Nyad's an imperfect but satisfying film, uplifting and well-acted enough to be worth a watch.

Finally score: 68/100.

As a fan of giant ensemble movies and tragedies, I wanted to love this movie so badly. Bobby follows things happening to a group of people at the Ambassador Hotel in the lead up to the assassination of Robert Kennedy. What the script is trying to do earlier on with this becomes clear: it's not so much the story of how several people's lives were affected by the Kennedy's death, but rather what America looked like in the late 60s and implies that the assassination was the loss of a great future. And regardless of the final product, it's difficult not to admire its grand ambition. But as you start to watch Bobby, you realize that Estevez bit off far, far more than he can chew, and the movie dies before it can ever really begin.

Probably the most glaringly obvious issue is that Robert Kennedy, in a movie named after him, is not a character. He's a symbol of hope fleetingly glimpsed in real-life footage and occasionally mentioned reverently by various people. The only thing he actually is used for thematically is as a childishly simplistic observation that he was some messiah who was amazing enough as to save America once and for all. We never get a sense of any complexity to him or his image, we never get to see how he copes with all of the responsibility and expectation out upon him, we never really feel like he's an actual person. It's almost a little insulting to turn this full-fledged individual who was horrifically murdered into a martyr for a vaguely liberal future. And also a massive missed opportunity to explore such an interesting figure that would also be a much better central through-line to make the climax more impactful. Even as a symbol, Bobby just uses him to say "wow, that Robert Kennedy sure was a great guy" instead of anything meaningful. What values does he have that politicians before and since do not? Why was this specific moment such a turning point for our society?

What's most strange about this choice is that there's nothing connecting the characters of the movie to the actual death of Kennedy beside circumstance, which isn't inherently a problem (lots of great movies explore how chance can change the course of someone's existence), but becomes one when compounded with Bobby's other big issue. None of the characters are well-developed enough to be interesting, nor are they given enough time to empathize with them.

Most of the plot lines tries to use their subject to reflect on a specific social issue of the time, from feminism, to racism, to the Vietnam War, to drugs. Some of them seem they're there to make the film feel bigger in scope at the cost of padding out the runtime. But all of them suffer from the presence of each other. There's no room to get emotionally invested in these characters and no time for most of them to truly go beyond the surface-level, and as a result the film suffers. Take, for example, Lindsay Lohan and Elijah Wood's subplot about getting married to prevent him from being drafted. The few conversations they have with each other are clumsily written and do little to illuminate their personalities, mostly being reduced to them discussing how they barely know each other. For a couple marrying because of circumstance, they sure do seem to have an incredibly conflict-free and idealistic relationship, even leading to Lohan indirectly declaring her love for Wood despite them being little more than acquaintances. I get why they're in this movie: they needed to show the effects of the Vietnam war by tying it to a group of characters in order to bring it down to Earth. But the film is so overstuffed that we're never convinced of their relationship, nor of them as people, because we usually only get one brief scene of them before being shoved into the next plotline (although Wood's stilted acting doesn't help).

On and on Bobby goes, flitting from one superficial narrative to the next, as investment drops and boredom abounds. Some of the cast elicits sympathy and some degree of interest despite their artificiality, such as Freddy Rodriguez as a diligent worker excited about a baseball game. Some are just trapped spouting inane dialogue that exposits about whatever social issue they've been assigned, such as Jacob Vargas' character whose entire personality revolves around his ethnicity. Some make you wonder why they're in the movie at all. Brian Geraghty and Shia LeBoeuf's story seems included entirely to fulfill an obligatory standard to show the drug culture of the time with zero development, commentary, or even basic purpose, aside from perhaps adding some painfully unfunny humor to the proceedings. Anthony Hopkins does absolutely nothing but play chess, since his purpose of representing that the assassination would permanently leave a mark on the hotel as well as society in general doesn't actually allow him to have any sort of story at all.

Maybe Bobby is a movie that you have to have been alive at the time of its events to fully appreciate. After all, the investment and understanding of who the Kennedys were wouldn't have to be explained, and maybe the five dozen subplots can elicit a feeling of nostalgia. But other than that, I struggle to think of anything worth recommending about this clumsy, thinly written mess of a movie, a pale imitation of Robert Altman's masterpiece Nashville that exists solely for awards attention instead of being good.

Final score: 44/100.

White Noise is, undoubtedly, the strangest movie Netflix has released this year, which is saying a lot given the competition. The plot is all over the place, the dialogue very stylized, and the overall atmosphere is engaging but off-putting. It's the type of movie that is sure to cause a lot of division in audiences.

At its core, White Noise is about a college professor named Jack and his middle class family dealing with their fear of death, but what actually happens is quite complicated. So complicated, in fact, that it feels like three separate movies smashed together. To be fair, the novel is just as ungainly and incoherent, but at least you had the sense that you were the one with the problem. There was a mystique to DeLillo's writing that made it seem like there was a lot going on thematically with the strange choices. But in the movie? It just seems like bad, pretentious writing. I'm not even sure if Baumbach knew what DeLillo's aim was, or if he just guessed.

One symptom of this is that the unnatural dialogue stick out like a sore thumb: in a scene where Jack's wife, Babette, says how open she is with communicating her feelings, Driver says "That is the point of Babette." In another moment, Jack is shopping with his coworker when said coworker suddenly says that Jack's wife's "hair looks important." What is the point of lines like this? Because all it accomplishes is taking you out of the moment and reminding you that you're watching a movie with a script. Not to mention the multiple long, unintelligible "philosophical" monologues that occasionally pop up. Is it an intentional commentary on the hollowness of academia? If so, then why are they presented so uncritically and played dead straight? It's just another disjointed element of the movie that seems unfinished.

But even if the script fails them, the cast and tech crew don't give up on trying. Driver and Gerwig give very different performances, the former acting almost like an intentional caricature of a sitcom dad, and the latter trying to be serious the whole time. And yet it's one of the few disparate combinations in the film that actually pays off: their acting is convincing as a real couple. Gerwig, in particular, brings emotion to scenes that were completely absent of it on the page. The production design and score are also on point, creating a distinct and interesting atmosphere that also furthers the film's supposed social commentary. But none of this is quite enough to save White Noise from itself and its shortcomings.

The best part of the film is far and away the end credits. I'm not saying that as some sort of flippant joke about the movie's quality, it's a genuinely incredible sequence. Somehow it captures the exact type of weirdness and existentialism and fun that's absent from the rest of the movie. It's so good that, in all honesty, you could probably skip the rest of the movie for it. White Noise is consistently watchable and unique, unlike anything else you'll see this year. But it's aimless, confused, and ultimately baffling to make any significant impact.

Final Score: 62/100.

TAR is the kind of artistic movie we desperately need in cinemas right now. Ambitious and thought-provoking, it's well-worth spending 2.5+ hours on. Even though I'll probably be spending most of this review critiquing it, I want to be up-front with the fact that my problems with the film are the type of problems that I like having.

TAR first appears to be rather plain film about a composer simply living her life, and the film is at its best when it commits to this. Thanks to Todd Field's subtle yet effective direction, scenes like Lydia Tar going on a run or waking up in the middle of the night are oddly disquieting and memorable. Even in regular dialogue scenes, Field lets the script speak for itself without causing things to drag (well, for the most part-the opening scenes are a bit too slow and expository). In the wrong hands, this approach could threaten to become sterile, but thankfully that never manifests.

Most of the movie is like this, with seemingly no other goal but to recount the experiences of this fictional composer, with a vague sense of foreboding. However, the film shifts drastically in its last hour or so, to its own detriment. Suddenly, we're thrust into a narrative about cancel culture and accusations that has very little build-up. Perhaps the intent was to catch the audience off-guard, but there are several issues with this.

For one thing, it creates distance between the audience and Lydia Tar when the movie is centered around making us empathize with her (see the various instances of her psychological state being represented physically). Lydia's fully aware of the actions she did that were questionable, but we're not.

It also isn't given enough time to develop in a realistic way. Subverting expectations and trying to emulate the reality of cancel culture today isn't an excuse to forego expanding on it. We only ever get a surface-level overview of the issue that has little to say but "look at how this horrible person is actually really talented and has their life ruined."

And, probably most pressingly, the film is entirely one-sided for this process. We never see what Lydia's victims experience, or if her current relationship with a cellist is sinister, or even what exactly she did. It's the movie unfortunately taking the easy way out when it should be diving headlong into either unapologetic depictions of Lydia rationalizing her actions or showing the trauma she inflicted on these women.

The most talked about part of TAR is easily Cate Blanchett's performance in the titular role, and for the most part she delivers. She has some great nuances that give personality traits to the character without a single line of dialogue. And usually, she's able to stay subtle and rely on her on skills over shouting to captivate. However, Blanchett's performance falls short of greatness thanks to her typically theatrical style of acting. During certain scenes, you're taken out of the movie by an overacted line or an unnecessarily dramatic gesture there. The opening interview scene, in particular, is rough.

So the film has thematic and narrative issues. So Blanchett is unable to surpass her shortcomings as an actress. So the film can't decide between subjectivity and objectivity. Ultimately, these elements don't upset me that much , because TAR inspires discussion in a way unlike most films today. It's undoubtedly a movie that makes you think-which is more valuable to me than a well-rounded film that you forget instantly after watching. If you want an easy-to-swallow crowdpleaser, avoid TAR. But if you want a flawed but engaging experience, go for it.

Final Score: 70/100.

There has been a lot of buzz about Triangle of Sadness, especially given that it won the prestigious Palm D'Or at the Cannes Film Festival. Generally, however, reviews have been divided, with some calling it a hilarious anti-rich romp, and some criticizing it for being shallow in its satire.

But the problem with Triangle of Sadness has nothing to do with whether or not it is good dark comedy. The problem is that it's a complete mess. Annoying, disjointed, and appallingly slow, this is one of the most unpleasant cinemagoing experiences I've had all year. However, I can't deny that it is very well-made and acted, which saves the movie from outright badness.

The film starts off on the wrong foot with a long, long argument between its two protagonists. It's clearly supposed to show how shallow rich people are, but the scene should be around two minutes and instead takes up what feels like twenty. Both characters are intensely irritating: again, not on its own an issue, but it's not justified sufficiently to make it worthwhile.

Initially, you think to yourself "no matter. A lot of movies don't start great. This is bound to get better." But, unfortunately, the opposite is true. Triangle of Sadness doesn't just have an overly long and slow beginning section, it's an overly long and slow movie. You find out that it scarcely has anything that resembles a plot or any real structure, and almost every single one of the characters are designed to be extremely unlikable. This leads to scene after scene of no consequence and little entertainment value, interspersed with only the occasional mildly amusing gag. Any through line established in the opening is completely dropped for no apparent reason. Even when the boat is finally left behind, the plot does not pick up whatsoever and still refuses to engage the audience.

What's most frustrating is that the elements for a great movie are right there. The acting is executed well and the movie is styled in a unique yet restrained way. Some of the humour even elicits laughs, a rare trait for a modern comedy. But none of this is enough to fully salvage the film and make it worth watching. Triangle of Sadness is a movie that has the trappings of great cinema, but it's all in service of a wretched, vacuous hole at its center.

Finally Score: 46/100.

The Good Nurse is competently made, well acted, and effectively critiques the American healthcare system that prioritizes cash over patients' well-being. So what's the problem? Mainly, the film is less than the sum of its parts. All of its positive elements are severely diminished thanks to an unbelievably slow pace and a middling script.

Whatever the film's flaws are, Jessica Chastain is certainly not one of them. Her performance finds nuance and empathy in a character that's fairly one-note. If I'm being honest, I preferred her role here to her Best Actress-winning turn in The Eyes of Tammy Faye from last year. Redmayne also does good work here, until he goes over-the-top near the end to such a degree that I barely could stifle my laughs.

The main issue is that the plot is interesting and could fill a 90 minute movie, but at 2 hours it's just too thin. Because of this, the runtime is padded by a glacial pace that makes it very difficult to be engaged with the film as a whole. I'm not opposed to a slower vibe per se, but only when it works for the movie instead of against it. But here, it's unnecessary and only detracts from the drama by pulling you out of it. This problem is made all the stranger by how rushed the ending feels with a solution that seems far too simple and contrived. I'm not even totally sure how and why the movie is this slow, since characterization and any motivation for the crimes are lackluster.

Speaking of which, it's really strange how little development any of these people get. One of Chastain's character's main struggles is completely dropped by the last act and is only mentioned in passing in end text. Redmayne barely has a character to begin with, especially considering that he is the monster the whole movie is based around. Their acting is able to make up for some of it, but unfortunately not enough of it.

Should you watch this movie? If you are interested in the real-life case and like Jessica Chastain or Eddie Redmayne, then go for it. Otherwise, there's nothing separating this from the deluge of true crime movies and shows that are currently all-the-rage on Netflix.

Final Score: 62/100.

Before watching, I was very worried Coal Miner's Daughter would be one of those early eighties films about Southern culture that's competently made but wretched to sit through, like Tender Mercies and Places in the Heart. But thankfully I was wrong. This is what a musical biopic should look like, a heartfelt but unflinching portrayal of why and how Loretta Lynn rose to fame.

The star of the show is, unsurprisingly, Sissy Spacek. She's utterly captivating and convincing as Lynn without devolving into scenes of hysteria like so many biographical performances before and since. Rare, too, is the degree of subtly on display: it takes moments that could easily be grating and makes them completely endearing. But the most remarkable thing is that, somehow, Spacek is able to play Loretta at 15 to her mid thirties and stay totally believable throughout, and absent of a lot-if any-makeup. She truly deserves the Oscar for this.

But Spacek is also supported by great work from Tommy Lee Jones as her disgruntled yet well-intentioned husband, and Beverly D'Angelo as an effective (albeit brief) role as Patsy Cline. This isn't the sort of biopic where the lead performance is so much better than everyone else that it's distracting, as seen with The Eyes of Tammy Faye or Harriet. Rather, everyone works together wonderfully to create a realistic ensemble.

And that's really what makes Coal Miner's Daughter such a refreshing movie. This is a film that tells its story with humility and compassion, not stopping to wallow in sentimentality or misery. It simply observes the lives of these characters. The scenes of Loretta living as a star are presented as no more happy for her than when she was living in Kentucky. She never falls off the deep end, nor is she outright desperate for fame. It all just happens to her from talent and some good luck. And throughout it all, Loretta remains essentially the same person-a coal miner's daughter at heart.

Does Coal Miner's Daughter reinvent the biopic formula? Not really. But it's made with such honesty and sensitivity that I can't help but admire how well it turned out.

Final score: 78/100.

Let's get this straight: Blonde is not a movie for everyone. It's long, it's depressing, and it doesn't hold back. So if you're expecting an inspirational movie about Marilyn Monroe taking on a sexist industry, you're likely to be disappointed. But, as someone who's read the 700+ source novel, I knew what to expect going in. And for me, Blonde is one of the most boldly original and stunning movies of the past decade.

Blonde is, essentially, the rise and fall of Marilyn Monroe. But to put this in the same camp as biopics with similar structures like The Eyes of Tammy Faye and La Vie En Rose would be doing it a great disservice. The movie doesn't simply show what Marilyn endures, it empathizes with her perspective in a way few films have before. That's why the many, many elements swirling around in Blonde that threaten to tear it apart are cohesive enough to make the film soar. For example, on paper, shifting aspect ratios and changes from black-and-white to colour for no clear purpose sounds very distracting. But for reasons that I'm not even sure of, it enhances the experience beyond what a straightforward aesthetic would have provided. Blonde may initially seem like a chaotic movie, but the direction is tight and controlled.

In a movie like Blonde, everything would all be for naught if the lead performance didn't deliver. Thankfully, Ana De Armas is incredible as Monroe, expertly immersing us in her plight without seeming desperate or over-the-top. She deftly manages to remain emotional yet realistic, with her smiles gradually hiding more and more pain. Her accent doesn't sound like Monroe (people in search of a perfect recreation of the blonde bombshell and her life story will also be disappointed by the film), but it doesn't need to. De Armas manages to encapsulate the very spirit of Monroe, and that's exactly what makes a biographical performance great. She's a powerhouse, and in a just world, she would be winning an Oscar for this.

De Armas isn't the only one who's excellent here. Adrien Brody's Arthur Miller is cynical, yet kind at heart, a combination that sounds hokey but is very grounded and believable. Julianne Nicholson has a tricky role as Monroe's unhinged mother: one false move and it tumbles into camp. But even though she appears on screen for only a few minutes, her towering role leaves a haunting shadow throughout the rest of the movie. Although Monroe is undoubtedly the star, her supporting cast are more than capable of helping her along the way.

This movie has been attracting significant controversy for its supposed exploration of Monroe, and how it revels in her abuse and mistreatment. I feel like I've watched a completely different movie than those people. Blonde is one of the most achingly compassionate, empathetic films inspired by a real person that I've ever seen. The movie makes you feel her pain, but that doesn't mean it depicts it head-on. A scene in which she's abused by her husband is wildly successful in making her suffering painful without even showing it. Not only that, but the movie is consciously aware of how it's very concept is somewhat exploitative, as made clear in one of the movie's infamous love scenes and even a moment where she stares directly into the camera and asks "What business of my life is yours?" Even as it bracingly and honestly shows the suffering endured by the fictional Norma Jean, the movie understands and questions why there's even an audience for a film with a premise such as this.

I'm not entirely sure what Dominik is trying to communicate to the audience with Blonde. Is it about the separation and fracturing of identity? The inhumanity of the supposed "Golden Age" of Hollywood? Did he simply seek to record the plight of the fictionalized Norma Jean? But I was also so utterly lost in its world, its characters, its atmosphere, that I'm convinced the fault is my own and rewatches will illuminate the film's depths. I'm at a loss to explain how a movie can suck you in so much, particularly given its nearly three-hour length.

Blonde is one of the best films of the year. It's uncompromising, emotionally taxing, even horrifying-and absolutely brilliant from first frame to last.

Final Score: 89/100.

This is a movie premise brimming with potential. Rosanna Arquette is your average housewife: a good cook, supportive of her husband, and helplessly bored of her life. On a whim, she decides to go to a meetup for someone "desperately seeking Susan" that she sees in the paper. But things don't go as anyone expects.

This sort of premise would not seem out of place in a 30s screwball comedy. It completely captures the anything-can-happen idea that they all strive for. And yet, the movie ultimately falters.

To put it simply, the plot becomes a hot mess. Things get way too complicated for the movie to handle, and as the threads pile up you start to give up on caring about it at all. There are cases of mistaken identity, jewel thieves, cheating characters whose partners think they're faithful, faithful characters whose partners think they're cheating, amnesia, mobsters, and more.

Writing that out makes it sound like a lot of fun, right? On paper it is, but the film lacks the manic energy needed to pull it off. A film like "What's Up, Doc?" has an equally absurd plot, but because it feels so fun and freewheeling and wild the whole way through, you're completely swept up into the mayhem and enjoy the ride. Desperately Seeking Susan treats itself more seriously, to its detriment. And by the time the very anticlimactic finale comes around, you can't help but shake the feeling that the movie had barely started up at all.

Still, the movie has a lot going for it. Rosanna Arquette and (surprisingly) Madonna are both great. The former in particular gives what could have been a generic role a wonderful twist, and you really feel like she's brimming with life. The costume design and makeup are also insanely memorable. It's combines traditional 80s flair with a goth/punk vibe that sticks in your mind for days on end. And, of course, the song Into the Groove is one of Madonna's best, and one that suits the movie perfectly.

Would I recommend watching this? Tepidly. Yes, the plot is a major problem, but there's just enough wit, just enough spunk to make it worthwhile. If you want a high dose of 80s fun, go for it.

Final Score: 66/100.

After eight years, Cronenberg is finally back with the simple premise: what if humans could no longer feel pain? And, for the most part, he's able to expand on this idea to create one of his most interesting features, and a very welcome return to cinema. It's certainly a movie to avoid if you want something flat-out scary, but if you're looking for something more idea-driven, this could be a great watch.

Normally, Cronenberg films can be divided into two distinct types: the spectacle-driven horror movies (Videodrome, Naked Lunch) and the ideological social dramas (A History of Violence, Eastern Promises). For a while they just existed as two very different phases of his career, miles apart in both tone and theme. But with Maps to the Stars, his previous film, Cronenberg created a bold and memorable mix of them: one moment is a disturbing encounter with a ghost, the next is social commentary on Hollywood celebrities.

This trend continues in Crimes of the Future to an even more extreme degree, with disgusting body mutilations and musings on the nature of evolution existing side-by-side. It's one of his most intellectual features, deftly exploring the fascinating world he has created and letting the audience mull over its implications.

The clinical direction and cinematography can understandably be off-putting to some people. But it helps create a sterile, almost casual atmosphere, one that does a good job of conveying the future's lack of emotional attachment to the human body. It's no longer a remarkable work of nature, but merely a blank slate that's to be molded however you wish.

A movie like this can really fall apart if the acting's not up to par, but luckily the cast is uniformly great. They're all more than capable of selling this idea of a post-pain world in which humans rip out and mangle their own organs in front of entranced onlookers. Kristen Stewart has the most difficult job of everyone (for reasons that are too intriguing to spoil), and she absolutely nails it. She's awkward, funny, and disturbing in equal proportions. Although it is disappointing that she's somewhat underused in the movie, what little screen time she has is very effective.

Is Crimes of the Future a perfect movie? Definitely not. It's overly indulgent at points, some of the supporting characters don't have a lot to do, and its message about humanity and technology doesn't have the resonance it should. But ultimately, the film accomplishes nearly everything it strives for: it's gross, psychologically stimulating, restrained in all the right ways, and a thoroughly satisfying film overall. I'm thrilled to see what Cronenberg does next.

Final Score: 77/100.

It's not even funny how much Glenn Close completely dominates The Wife. The movie around her is mediocre at best, but she single-handedly saves it through a stunning performance. Although many might dismiss this as a shallow attempt to get Close her long awaited Oscar-and to an extent, it definitely is-she gives it all she's got. Her acting is what makes the movie.

But let's put aside Close for a second. The Wife is about Joe and Joan Castleman. The former has just won the Nobel Prize for Literature, and so the couple travel to Stockholm for the ceremony. But tension flairs up as a nosy biographer turns up (Christian Slater, a decent actor phoning it in here) and their son grows increasingly frantic (Max Irons, even less compelling). Eventually, Joan must decide whether she should stay a subservient spouse or forge her own path.

Approaching The Wife as a serious drama, I couldn't help but notice how unsure the film is of itself. At times, it looks like the director didn't know how to frame a particular shot, so he just set the camera several feet away from the actors and called it a day. He also struggles to properly block a scene, which makes the proceedings stagey and amateurish. I'm not exactly surprised considering this is his first big project.

What does surprise me is the clumsy writing. The screenplay was not written by a newcomer, but someone who's been in the business for over twenty years. Why, then, is the script so trite? When the plot is supposed to thicken in The Wife, it only gets less and less interesting. What could have been a complicated look about the intersection of neglect and envy in a famous person's relationship gives way to a far more digestible good guy vs bad guy narrative. We've seen the whole "society treats men better than women" theme done countless times, but The Wife never has anything new to say nor any engaging way of saying it. Not to mention occasional bits of dialogue that are either incredibly on-the-nose, such as an exchange with a flight attendant at the end of the film, or flat-out nonsensical (why would a thirty-year-old have any genuine romantic interest in a nearly 70-year-old man?). I can't help but think the source novel is somewhat to blame here, but seeing as I haven't read it I won't say I'm certain.

The acting is uniformly underwhelming. Aside from the aforementioned Irons and Slater, Pryce is unexpectedly lacking. He does okay in scenes where he has to act normal, but any degree of believability he has is completely lost when he gets emotional. That wouldn't be a huge problem on its own, but his performance is also quite bland. The young Castlemans, seen in flashback, are also lacking. Harry Lloyd as a young John is fine, albeit rather surface-level, but Annie Starke as the young Joan never sells it at all. Her performance deteriorates as the movie goes on, and by her last scene she says all of her lines as robotically and uninterested as possible. The Wife doesn't work as the actor's showcase that it theoretically is, because there's only one great performance in the cast. In contrast, look at Roman Polanski's Carnage: you don't necessarily believe these four adults would all stay in a room for hours on end despite hating each other so much. But the movie works in part because all four of the leads are utterly compelling and a delight to watch. Nobody is nearly as good in this, and so the film suffers.

But Close single-handedly saves the movie. She grabs your attention even in quiet scenes, when she's plastering on a fake smile that hides her inner resentment. You can see the thoughts swirling in her head as she stands subserviently by her husband. Even her inevitable breakdown scene is tinted with a certain realism and passion that the rest of the film lacks. The direction may be tepid, the writing may be sloppy, and the acting may be weak, but Close is so solid that at times you almost forget about all that. Although I prefer Olivia Colman in The Favourite, I would not have been upset had Close won the Academy Award for Best Actress. Still, a single performance can only take your movie so far, and The Wife doesn't have enough going for it to be anything above average as a whole.

Final Score: 58/100.

I continue to find that Ridley Scott is a rather hit-or-miss director. For every film of his that's absolutely phenomenal (Thelma and Louise), there's one that's mediocre at best (House of Gucci). And now I've come across what might be his worst film, the interminable and unpleasant Legend. Please note that I watched the well regarded director's cut as opposed to the widely reviled theatrical cut. I can't imagine a version of this film that works well.

Legend is a protracted tale of a Tarzan-esque Tom Cruise rescuing his true love and the last unicorn from the Devil. If that sounds like a mishmash of cliches and not much else, that's because it is. All of the fantasy elements here are indistinct, bland, and used to much greater effect in other movies.

The plot is also confusing in places. For example, an early scene features Cruise warning the Princess not to get too close to the unicorns. But when she inevitable does, they actually get along quite nicely. Things only turn south when the evil goblins turn up. So what's the big deal with the Princess and the unicorns? It's something curiously left unexplained.

This wouldn't on its own kill the movie. A flimsy plot can still make for a good film (see Ellie Parker and Licorice Pizza), and I suppose the same could hypothetically apply to a fantasy one. But alas, Legend isn't nearly as much fun as it needs to be. It takes itself as seriously as Lord of the Rings, when it should really be more in line with Flash Gordon. The film's basic plot is just too insubstantial to support a dark tone, and it gets in the way of what could've been a very enjoyable movie.

Another big problem is that all of the characters are extremely one-note. Some don't have any personality at all-a series of odd elf creatures eventually start following around Cruise and his nymph friend, but they're incredibly one-dimensional and lack charm. Even Cruise himself is hampered by cheesy dialogue and zero characterisation aside from "forest guy with a heart of gold." These protagonists are impossible to root for since the audience knows little to nothing about them.

There is some good to be found in Legend. For one thing, the set design , although not exactly as scary as the movie would lead you to believe, is still visually appealing. A mid-film scene involving a dance with a mysterious Twilight figure, in particular, is probably the highlight of the film just for its sheer beauty. Additionally, the Princess also has some interesting scenes with the hilariously evil main villain that go beyond what you'd expect. But overall, Legend is the fantasy equivalent to 1984's Dune (albeit not as laughable and insulting): a genre film with boring characters, a simplistic story, and a handful of interesting images that frankly aren't enough to make the movie worth it. If you want a trippy 80s fantasy, just go with Jim Henson's Labyrinth. Engaging but not stone-faced-serious, funny and charming, Labyrinth really is the perfect 80s movie. Legend? It wishes it was half as good.

Final Score: 39/100.

After hearing about the death of acclaimed director Peter Bogdanovich, I thought it was high time I sit down and watch one of his movies. But I didn't feel like watching the classic The Last Picture Show, or the equally highly regarded Paper Moon, or even his debut, Targets. No, I wanted to watch one of the "worst movie musical of this or any decade." And you know what? It wasn't that bad.

Critically eviscerated on its release and a notorious box-office bomb, At Long Last Love's theatrical cut has been gone for decades. In its placed I watched the more well-received Director's Cut. It's a bit baffling how a film this harmless was dragged through the coals the way it was. It has its problems, but nothing about it is offensive or even all that horrible. It's certainly possible the Director's Cut is significantly different than the theatrical version, but for now it's impossible to know.

The main problem with At Long Last Love is the abundance of musical numbers. The filmmaker's opt for a quantity over quality approach, which is both baffling and damaging. It doesn't even work from a thematic standpoint: if the film was trying to emulate the musicals of the 1930s, there should have been way less. For comparison, Ginger Roger and Fred Astaire's Top Hat is about 100 minutes and features eight songs. At Long Last Love is 123 minutes and has sixteen. Sixteen! Surely that must be a record. Regardless, all the budget was poured into just getting these sixteen mediocre numbers on the screen, instead of using it to make a smaller amount of absolute showstoppers. A lot of these songs have real potential: "You're the Top," "Just One of Those Things," and "Most Gentlemen Don't Like Love" could have been extremely memorable sequences, and "Find Me a Primitive Man" and "Well, Did You Evah?" should have been hilarious. But by shoving in these numbers as well as a dozen more (including the complete duds "But in the Morning, No" and "Alpha and Omega," the former being uncomfortable and the latter being forgettable), things get lost in the shuffle, and all the numbers are reduced to very slight dancing or nothing visually interesting at all.

Another flaw of the movie is the costume design and art direction. Practically everything in the movie that's not grass is monochrome. I get what the filmmakers were going for: it's in theory a clever nod to the black-and-white necessity of the musicals of yore, but it gets distracting and annoying. Distracting because you end up constantly searching the frame for a sign of color, and annoying because you become conscious of how the film being shot in color is entirely redundant. What if the color of the costumes related to the emotional states of the characters? They could start out with just black and white, but as they join with the people they love more vibrancy introduced. But, no: the film might as well have been black-and-white, and little of value would've been lost.

Perhaps it seems like I'm being to harsh on a film that I gave a mildly positive rating. It's worth explaining, then, that the film is not without merit: Cybill Shepard and Burt Reynolds are extraordinarily charming, and surprisingly not horrible singers. Although they're not Oscar-worthy, they do pretty much exactly what they're asked to in terms of acting. Kahn and Del Prete are also solid, although the latter's singing is lacking a bit. Most of the songs themselves are great, and their renditions here don't take away anything from that. Finally, the ending is not at all what I was expecting, going for a note of ambiguity instead of heavy-handedness like most musicals.

The plot is paper-thin, which is totally fitting to the homage theme, but unfortunately means it can't compensate for the flawed musical numbers. Same goes for the characters: charm and likability aren't enough to sustain personalities. Luckily it is short by musical standards: 123 minutes may seem excessive, but compared to the likes of the endless Paint Your Wagon (a whole 164 minutes of mediocrity and terrible singing), it's nothing. If you feel like turning your brain off and watching a decidedly imperfect but fun movie, I'd recommend this one. Fun and lightweight, At Long Last Love is a lot better than it's reputation would lead you to believe, and something I have great affection for despite its shortcomings.

Final Score: 57/100.

What can be said that hasn't been said about West Side Story? It's inarguably one of the most famous musicals of all time, won a whopping ten Oscars, and recently got a widely publicized remake. But being over 60 years old, does it still hold up for a modern day audience?

In short, yes it does.

West Side Story is an endearing and well-told adaptation of Romeo and Juliet, bolstered by killer songs and choreography. Although it isn't perfect, the movie still manages to be memorable and entertaining throughout.

Surprisingly, the central romance is the least compelling part of the whole movie. Although Natalie Wood brings charisma and softness to the role, Richard Beymer is rather unconvincing and bland. I still rooted for them, but overall, their chemistry is rather lacking. The script doesn't do them any favours: They have a total of one conversation that doesn't just amount to "I love you," and it is rather cliche and fails to say anything substantial about their characters.

With all that said, how could I think West Side Story is a great movie if the main protagonists are so boring? The truth is, the movie's strengths reside in the additional elements. The supporting characters are far more interesting than the main characters, a trend that reverberated through movie musicals for decades (see "Half a Sixpence," "Newsies," and "Moulin Rouge!"). Rita Moreno and George Chakiris bring such energy and life to their roles as Anita and Bernardo, it makes their bursts into song seem like a regular and natural thing for them to do. Eliot Field as Baby John delivers a performance with enough innocence that it becomes rather sad to see him witness all the horrible events that transpires. Even Susan Oakes as Anybodys and William Brantley as Officer Krumpke are solid.

Another great thing about the film is the subtext and ideas it explores. Although the thematic content of it isn't fully realized, there is still very intriguing commentary to be found on issues like immigration, racism, juvenile delinquency, and emotionally distant authority figures. Racism wasn't a foreign concept in cinema, but from what I can find it was practically nonexistent in musicals. However this comes with the caveat of Natalie Wood, a white actress, being cast as the Puerto Rican Maria. Although it's undeniably objectionable, at least she doesn't fall into the realm of offensive stereotypes.

And, of course, the song numbers are fantastic. Not all of them are perfect (the opening sequence in particular drags on for way too long), but on the whole they work exceptionally well. The Mambo sequence does an excellent job of demonstrating the simmering tension between the Sharks and the Jets with incredible dancing and an upbeat, catchy tune. "The Rumble" brilliantly shows the collective anticipation the characters have, as well as deftly weaving the melodies together. Even the seemingly inconsequential number "Officer Krumpke" ridicules the stereotypical reasoning given to minors for their misbehavior, indicating a far more realistic and even sadder explanation: the radicalization caused by gang life. They aren't in a gang because they're sick. They're sick because they're in a gang.

But the standout number, as well as one of the greatest song numbers in musical history, is "America." This is when the whole movie comes together and makes something truly iconic. The actors and actresses give it their all, the tune and choreography are jubilant and impressive, and the lyrics manage to deliver an incredibly nuanced perspective on immigration that perfectly contrasts the idealization some people have of America thanks to "The American Dream" with the reality of what being a foreigner in the United States is like. It is nothing short of magnificent.

West Side Story is a great movie, a musical with showstoppers a'plenty and heart to spare. Although I can't help but wonder the masterpiece the world would have gotten had the leads been more compelling and the screenplay been tightened, it's still a really good musical.

Final Score: 80/100.

Julien Donkey-Boy is an extremely sad movie. Not just because of its subject matter, but because of its missed potential. It could have been an emotional cry of anguish, showing a family in turmoil with dead-on accuracy and empathy. Or it could've been an unnerving yet enlightening trip into the mind of a schizophrenic person, using the power of film to show their view of the world. Alas, the film falls into incoherence and pretension, and falls apart.

I understand what Harmony Korine was trying to do. He was trying to make a film as realistic as possible, deliberately eschewing narrative and theme to accomplish this. The movie has scenes that establish characters more than anything else: Chris, Julien's brother, using his arms to climb up the stairs as a means of exercise: the Father, drinking cough syrup and dancing around in a gas mask: and Julien, getting absorbed to the point of tears watching an African-American gospel choir.

However, strike number one of the movie is that of the four main characters, only three get sufficient characterization. Julien's sister Pearl (the woman on the cover of the film) gets a few scenes of her walking around and singing to herself. Other than that she's generally nice to people and plays the harp. That's it. She's by far the most mentally stable of the family, so why don't we get her thoughts on living like that? How does she feel about being pregnant? Why is she such a nice person in a family full of chaos? I don't expect any of these questions to be fully answered, but I at least expect the impression that an answer is there. Pearl is a vapid character with nothing unique about her and no depth. Sure, not everyone is interesting, but everyone has stuff going on below the surface. Pearl does not, and the realism of the film suffers because of it.

Another problem with the film is the completely unnecessary stylization that seem to have no purpose but for Korine to demonstrate how cool he is. Sometimes, the intense filter everything's put through has the excuse that it's seen from Julien's-a schizophrenic person's-perspective. But some scenes don't have this excuse: For example, Pearl gives her father a haircut, and large chunks of it are just off-putting, almost mechanical shots of the scissors. It's physically impossible for Julien to be there, and another shot possibly implies he's across the street (although given the rest of the scene it could just be another pointlessly odd shot). So why on earth is it shot like this? The only explanation I can think of is that it portrays something mundane for most families in a strange way to highlight how very not normal the family is. But if that were the case, there are plenty of scenes of the characters doing normal things that are shot pretty normally (see the scene of Pearl walking in a wheat field). Although interesting, it serves no purpose whatsoever and is just meant to look cool with no consideration of why.

The final nail in the film's coffin is how poorly it represents mental illness. In the atrocious opening scene, Julien murders an innocent child, followed by a chest cam shot clearly meant to be disturbing. This doesn't set him up as a do-gooder impeded by his own psyche, it sets the film up as a tasteless horror movie about a deranged person causing havoc. Even the portrayal of schizophrenia itself is flawed: by having the only person with the condition be mentally deficient, reckless, and disturbing, it unfairly paints everyone with the condition as having those qualities. Watching actual interviews with schizophrenics will show that they don't just fit into the category of generic mentally impaired person, but rather that some can be extremely sharp (see John Nash for an example). I'm sure there are schizophrenics who act similarly to Julien, so his character isn't inherently a problem. It's that there isn't a single good schizophrenic person in the entire movie. Look at it this way: in Julien Donkey Boy, 100% of the people with schizophrenia are child murderers. Is that really positive representation? And that's not mentioning the father, who clearly has some mental illness going on, but is still a rampant child abuser.

I'll give Harmony Korine this: nobody makes films quite like him. His films are incredibly distinctive, particularly when it comes to visuals. His editing here every once in a while does a fantastic job of putting us in the characters' head-spaces. It turns a scene as pedestrian as Chris and Julien arguing about bacon into a memorable glimpse into the mind of our protagonist. He also seems to have much more empathy for his protagonists than in Gummo, sympathizing with their situation instead of looking on in disgust. And although it won't have you on the she of your seat, the movie is rather attention-grabbing.

Still, none of these are enough to overcome the massive problems with the movie. I appreciate Korine trying something unique, but conception and execution are two very different things.

Although the dramatic opera music at the end was likely only intended to reflect the sadness of the ending, it instead symbolizes the tragedy of the great movie Julien-Donkey Boy could have been.

Final Score: 42/100.

I had fun reading "Where'd You Go, Bernadette." Generally books are not my thing, but the basic premise and intriguing epistolary style caught my interest. And although it's far from Shakespeare, it was a breezy romp with an engaging central mystery and lots of laughs.

Why they opted to turn it into a straightforward drama with no mystery and virtually no laughs is beyond me.

Almost all of the jokes of the book are cut out. The unintentionally harsh acronyms of an abuse survivors' support group, the over-the-top ravings of the neighborhood soccer moms, and more have all been excised or heavily toned down. On its own this isn't an issue as long as they replace it with something worthwhile: taking the story more seriously does provide the opportunity to explore the characters more. But instead, "Bernadette" is bogged down by plot-heavy scenes that don't contribute to our understanding of the characters at all.

What's more is that the entire premise of the original book is basically scrapped. Instead of focusing on Bee's quest to find her mother, the film constantly cuts to Bernadette every chance they get. Surely they could have, you know, kept the central mystery an actual mystery (it's literally the title of the movie) and devoted the time spent on explaining where she is to fleshing out Bee and company. Instead, we're left with a ton of half-baked ideas (is Elgie cheating on his wife? What prompts Audrey's complete 180 from hating Bernadette to liking her? Etc.) that don't get enough time to be developed. For the record, the novel didn't really have this problem as it wasn't as character focused (although the above questions did get answers). A pity the film decided to go in a different direction.

Still, "Bernadette" does offer some things that are decent. The elephant in the room is Cate Blanchett as Bernadette, who (despite the lack of interesting material she's given) gives in a really solid performance. The rest of the cast is decent, just not as noteworthy. Additionally, the production design is great. Whether it be the beautiful azure icebergs of Antarctica or the run-down girl's prep school, everything does a good job of contributing to the atmosphere of the movie. These two things help pull the movie from being bad into a more "meh" territory.

At its heart, the novel "Where'd You Go, Bernadette" is a comedy. It's frothy, lighthearted, fast paced, and a tad heartwarming. Bafflingly, the filmmakers behind this adaptation opted for an entire change of genre, turning the tone from one of fun to treacly sentimentality. However, they fail to significantly change the plot and characters enough for this to work, and instead casts a spotlight on how shallow the original novel is.

It should go without saying that illuminating problems with your source material is (generally) not a good thing for an adaptation to do. It's generally quite inoffensive, but you definitely aren't missing much by skipping this one.

Final score: 47/100.

Labyrinth is undoubtedly one of the greatest family films ever made. It's the kind of film that you can watch endlessly because of how entertaining it is. For kids, the film is an insanely creative adventure that never ceases to amaze. For older audiences, it's an analogy for the coming of age of a young woman that is depicted with startling empathy and maturity.

The acting in the film is great, too. Jennifer Connolly does a great job of being the grounding force between all the weirdness on display, and whilst she's certainly not Oscar-worthy, for her young age she's quite impressive. The actors for the puppet manage to communicate a lot of personality and charm with the restrictions they had. But the real scene stealing performance here, is David Bowie as Jareth. He has such gravitas and brings such weight to the role. It helps that his songs numbers in the film are also great.

Speaking of which, almost all of the movie's songs are extremely catchy. Obviously the highlight is "Magic Dance," but "Chilly Down" and "Within You" are both superb. Believe me, these songs will be stuck in your head long after the movie has ended.

Overall, Labyrinth is one of the most purely entertaining movies ever made. Its effects are incredibly impressive, even by today's standards. It has a surprising amount of thematic depth. And above all, it is a lot of fun. Every time I watch it I end up with a giant smile on my face. If you haven't seen Labyrinth, I can't recommend it enough.

Final Score: 90/100.