Richard Scott Larson

The film is filled with a subtextual nostalgia for a fleeting youth and the urgency of figuring things out before it’s too late.

John Krasinski is most in his comfort zone when the importance of family and legacy drives the film’s tension.

In a world increasingly resistant to cultural exchange, the miracle of The Little Prince is how it’s become so universally beloved, and Boonstra’s film is a worthy homage to its passionate translators who’ve been so inspired by Saint-Exupery’s story .

The pleasure of A Quiet Place is in John Krasinski's commitment to imagining the resourceful ways in which a family might survive in this kind of world, then bearing witness to the filmmaker's skillfully constructed methods of putting them to the ultimate test, relentlessly breaking down all of the walls the family has erected to keep the monsters out.

Greg Berlanti's charmingly heartfelt film is a remarkably successful attempt to give shape to the experience of the closet by drawing an incredibly intimate portrait of a teenage boy about to leave it behind.

Bill Condon's Beauty and the Beast actually delivers a remarkably optimistic balm to a festering, existential wound.

Even stronger than its predecessor, which didn't quite go as far in terms of representing these young women in a wider context.

These films, and Tolkien's entire oeuvre, are most affecting in their depictions of friendship, and the performances here represent plutonic male intimacy in convincing, often moving ways.

As a metaphor for the way we respond to the media, and the way our politics are funneled through the media lens, the film succeeds most when it revels in ambiguity.

A curious blend of our newly acquired taste for dystopia alongside a healthy sprinkling of Lord of the Flies, the film offers familiar pleasures without prompting the sense of having already been here before.