Christopher Gray

By subverting the impulse to indulge a winning romance between its two bright European stars, In the Aisles insists on the dignity of its appealing but rather thin characters.

The documentary isn't advancing an argument so much as simply restating a European socialistic breed of fact.

Dan Stevens navigates the film’s literal and thematic alleyways with the same enthusiastic befuddlement that convinced many to soldier through Legion‘s more impenetrable stretches.

Josh Kriegman and Elyse Sternberg's film never discovers a greater purpose beyond its undeniable sideshow appeal.

It’s hard to tell who’s being lampooned and who’s being treated with sincerity at any given point.

The heart of T2 lies in the relationship between Renton and Sick Boy, but their rocky reunion is another victim both to the wheel-spinning innate in Hodge’s script and Boyle’s relative lack of fresh ideas.

A dour and withholding character study, Michel Franco's film invites more questions than it’s willing to answer.

It takes its literalism to such an extreme that, at points, it's difficult to determine whether or not the film is operating with a semblance of irony.

If Black Swan was filmmaker Darren Aronofsky's fevered valentine to the artist's self-abnegating drive toward greatness, then Mother!, his loudest and most comprehensive work to date, is either a critique of or a doubling down on that impulse.

Unfortunately, the film's occasionally thrilling visual sleight-of-hand comes at the ultimate service of a boilerplate early-mid-life-crisis drama.

The Conjuring 2 is a model of heightened tension and uneasy release, but the tropes propelling these night terrors grow stale pretty quickly.

A square journey through choppy waters, it boasts a Greatest Generation nostalgia so thoroughgoing it might as well be called Boys Becoming Men.

It's hard to come away from the film feeling anything but disdain and a twinge of embarrassment toward Gay Talese.

The film wants to treat Jeffrey Dahmer like a character, but it invariably frames him like a specimen.

When Taylor Sheridan is left to his own devices, his work seems more abrupt and shallow, no more so than when he resolves all of this film's lingering questions in one unremittingly nasty sideswipe of a flashback.

Remarkably faithful, except in how it rather boldly transforms Dave Eggers's drama into a broad comedy.

It forgoes its promise of twisty adult thrills in favor of a grimly deadpan lecture about messy truths and false perceptions.

Maris Curran never reconciles the film's impulse to interiority with its weakness for hothouse melodrama.

Throughout, writer-directors Lisa Robinson and Annie J. Howell's film buckles under the weight of its symbolism.

Fifty Shades Darker takes the Dark Knight approach to franchise maintenance, taking pains to assure you that its protagonists are serious about their passions.

The narrative is helplessly adrift, a yarn that extols vague grit and determination with no discernible through line.

Each of Table 19‘s faint glimmers of grace are overwhelmed by elements of general spatial and narrative incompetence.

Writer-director Andrew Renzi treats unfettered wealth as a hyperbolic playground through which to explore masculine insecurity.

The script labors to give the film a strong sense of place, but strange lapses confirm a sense that the city isn't a character here.

This is a Happy Madison production, and as such it's exhaustively lazy, outside of its righteous dedication to the valorization of the man-child.