Maureen Lee Lenker

Despite a trio of knockout performances, The Cut is a lackluster boxing drama.

Queer is an exercise in cinematic smugness. It’s a shame because it does contain some truly fine performances and compelling imagery. But much like its central character, it can’t get over itself.

Howard, working from a script by Noah Pink, has a lot of plates to keep spinning, including the story's wild swings between outrageous outbursts, sometimes played for laughs, and dog-eat-dog tension. Inevitably, with such an act, a few plates are bound to break.

Like the butterflies and pockets of natural beauty that Bailey is drawn to, there are glimmers of potential in Bird. But it never fully manages to take flight, leaving its provocative conclusion more jarring and confusing than revelatory.

With their abrupt violence, grotesque body horror, and mordant sense of humor, all three of the stories feel more aligned with Lanthimos’ earlier style, The audacity that has so defined Lanthimos and Stone’s work together remains, but here, it takes on a nastiness that becomes tedious the longer the film stretches on (and on and on to a nearly three-hour running time).

The film does not valorize Ferrari, but it doesn’t complicate him either. And while its racing sequences are exhilarating, it should have spent more time looking under the hood.

Fincher is adept at excoriating the darkness of the human soul, but he's missed his mark with a character so blindly determined to prove he doesn't have one.