Entertainment Weekly's Scores

For 7,797 reviews, this publication has graded:
  • 68% higher than the average critic
  • 2% same as the average critic
  • 30% lower than the average critic
On average, this publication grades 2.2 points higher than other critics. (0-100 point scale)
Average Movie review score: 67
Highest review score: 100 13th
Lowest review score: 0 Wide Awake
Score distribution:
7797 movie reviews
  1. Like the best moments in Up or Wall-E or Inside Out, the alchemy of Soul's final scenes find Pixar at its most stirring and enduring, a marshmallow puff of surreal whimsy that somehow lightly touches the profound.
  2. Plot doesn't really matter, there's not much character development to speak of, but there is a lot of fighting against an endless swarm of enemies.
  3. It takes some time to get to the major action set pieces (other than the prologue, which is gorgeous), but it’s too much of a pleasure to live in this well-realized place, populated by a quartet of capable and charismatic stars, to really care.
  4. Its gentle, understated tone belies Msangi’s careful attention to rhythm and detail, though the simplicity of the plot, particularly in a few mild contrivances, slightly undermines the story’s authenticity.
  5. The film’s greatest strength is the pairing of Miller and Luna, an immensely charismatic duo who give Adrienne and Matteo’s relationship (not to mention her metaphysical crisis) credibility even where Miele’s script does not.
  6. The movie offers few surprises and even less alacrity; and yet there's a cumulative weight to World that feels, if hardly new, still worth sitting through.
  7. It almost seems churlish to single out one aspect of the film for unreality, when the whole thing is essentially one Riverdancing leprechaun short of a fairy tale. And when so many dangerous drinking games can be invented to accompany the rise and fall of Christopher Walken’s mystery brogue.
  8. There are several arresting visual set pieces . . . And there's the more ordinary pleasure, too, of seeing this many good actors, snug and earnest in their jumpsuits, go to work. But the film often feels less like its own distinct narrative than a sort of greatest-hits amalgam of movies like The Martian, Gravity, Interstellar, Ad Astra, and all the others that came before.
  9. There’s a loose, jazzy verve to the production, a sort of sonic and visual razzmatazz that gives the film a fanciful Oceans 11-style gloss. Mostly, though, Talk is just a chance to spend two hours watching Streep & Co. make the most of Deborah Eisenberg’s deliciously salty script, while Soderbergh — who also serves as cinematographer — shoots it all in ruthless, radiant light.
  10. Mikkelsen has become perhaps Denmark’s most familiar face Stateside over the past decade. But he still feels most in his skin in roles like these, and in Round’s final ecstatic scene, the actor does what only true stars seem able to: Take the silly or messy or improbable, and make it fly.
  11. Some of the songs have charm. The cast is undeniably talented. But ultimately, the film has way too much in common with the egomaniacs at its center: It poses for an undeniably good cause, but its greater purpose is to collect the credit for having done it.
  12. Hillbilly Elegy is two movies, one laughably bad and one boringly bad.
  13. There's an intimately lived-in quality to the film that feels almost documentary.
  14. If Davis hadn't already taken home Oscar gold so recently, she'd almost certainly claim another prize here for the raw transformative verve of her performance; it's more than possible she still might. It's Boseman, though, in his final appearance on screen, who makes both the bitter and the sweet of the story sing: a pointed arrow of hurt and hope and untapped fury, heartbreakingly alive in every scene.
  15. Run
    If the plot tends to outline its intentions in Sharpie — and veer into pure silliness by the final third — their presence pulls all that ridiculosity over the finish line: hardly a home run, but still a brittle, nasty bit of fun.
  16. Wolfwalkers deserves a new level of praise for the way it takes previous Cartoon Saloon themes (such as the porous relationship between man and nature) to new heights of artistry.
  17. And for all the absurdist laughs (and not a few cringes) both men wring from it, their interplay feels both inherently ridiculous and entirely true to life; a bittersweet bromance writ in whiskey and spandex.
  18. The specificity with which Khaou portrays this beautiful place, evolving beyond its traumatic history but never forgetting it entirely, is what makes Monsoon so piercing.
  19. It's the smaller moments shared by the movie's flawed, humble characters — Loren twirling to old samba records in magic-hour sunlight; Karimi's Hamil teaching Momo how to reweave a rug — and its immersive Italian setting that make Life worth its sweet, meandering time.
  20. In a year short on so many of those things, Jangle feels like finding something sweetly familiar but also new, finally, under the tree.
  21. There's a better, weirder story in here somewhere — about teenage desire and social Darwinism, gender and perception — but the movie seems happy enough to settle for familiar, goofy jokes and jump scares; a freak flag half-flown.
  22. The story then becomes less a forensic accounting of a masterpiece than a bittersweet ode to a certain slice of old Hollywood: part love letter, part cautionary tale, and still somehow a mystery.
  23. As an instrument of righteousness and retribution, Let Him Go can feel both familiar and at times shockingly brutal, especially in its final climactic moments. Still, there's blunt power in the execution, most of it concentrated in Bezucha's moody big-sky atmosphere, and in the seasoned professionals he's found to tell the tale.
  24. As it is, though, the leaden dialogue and awkward pacing ensure that the shallow, unfunny Holidate never takes off.
  25. By the end of Legacy, each of the witches has become less interesting and less distinct. You’ll find yourself asking, where are the weirdos, Lister-Jones? I'm sorry to tell you: They got left in the ‘90s.
  26. If the movie's entire axis spins on the kind of extreme discomfort comedy you almost need a pillow to chew on and a pile of Xanax to get through, that's also the particular genius of Baron Cohen, an artist who instinctively knows how to hold up a mirror — and that a cracked one can show us, maybe better than anything, exactly what we need to see.
  27. This Witches, alas, has the misfortune of doubling down on all the late writer's eccentricities, while somehow finding only a fraction of his magic.
  28. If wallpaper and polyester were any metric to judge a movie by, I'm Your Woman could have been a masterpiece.
  29. There’s a great film to be made about organ donation — the miraculous, often mysterious link between donor and recipient and how that decision touches lives. But 2 Hearts doesn’t come close to finding the pulse required to be that movie.
  30. It tells a story as urgent and beautifully human as almost anything on screen this year.
  31. With or without that hallowed history, it's hard not to feel the lack of something in director Ben Wheatley's lush, ponderous update — the most obvious thing, perhaps, being Laurence Olivier and Joan Fontaine.
  32. There's more to admire than to love in Azazel Jacobs' arch drawing-room comedy, with its surreal styling and arch Wes Anderson-y tics — and something essential lost, maybe, in screenwriter Patrick deWitt's own adaptation of his acclaimed 2018 novel of the same name.
  33. A ramshackle, winningly raw coming-of-middle-age shot in vivid black and white but told in emotional Technicolor.
  34. As a reverent highlight reel and a history lesson, The Glorias gets the job done; as a movie, though, it rarely sings.
  35. The movie’s title, by the way, comes from the president’s own evaluation of his handling of the virus, a phrase he proudly repeated more than once.
  36. In Ewing’s hands and as anchored by two superb performances, Iván and Gerardo’s romance gets scaled up to an epic, a searing saga of the undocumented experience in which love is the binding force.
  37. Like a sturdier Mr. Rogers who just happens to prefer red anoraks to cardigans, Dick comes off as both a kind of holy sage and an extremely good sport — a man whose gentle, pure-hearted exuberance swells to fill nearly every frame.
  38. Boys no doubt has its benefits as both a history lesson and an outsize acting showcase for its talented cast; as a film experience in 2020, though, it often comes as a kind of relief to know that the seismic half-century-plus since its creation — as a play and a 1970 film, then a play and a movie again — have given us so many other sweeter, deeper stories to tell.
  39. Chicago 7 frames the past not just as entertaining prologue but a living document; one we ignore at our own peril.
  40. The story itself, with its gorgeous interiors and jazzy Chet Baker soundtrack, turns out to be a bit of a wisp, a dandelion puff tossed to the gods of romance and prime Manhattan real estate. But if the emotional stakes never really seem all that crucial (love wins, in the end), Murray brings his own cosmic weight.
  41. Jenkins and a nearly unrecognizable Winger make the most of their small monsters, peeling back layers of callousness and calculation to hint at the messier motivations underneath.
  42. While the mystery might be elementary (my dear, notably absent, Watson), the storytelling is winkingly subversive, proclaiming that a new and welcome game is afoot.
  43. Durkin captures it all with a sort of menacing restraint, building a deeply disquieting mood from long, almost voyeuristic shots and loaded gazes.
  44. For the most part, though, these secrets aren't worth passing along.
  45. What it does have in happy excess is Souza’s affable presence, and his remarkable trove of images.
  46. The last 15 minutes are frankly devastating — catharsis, thy name is ugly-cry! — but it all feels a little manipulative and thinly told in the end; Nancy Meyers reset in the key of tragedy.
  47. It ultimately proves too unwieldy a subject for Ebersole and Hughes to essentialize in under 100 minutes.
  48. It's hard, too, to picture any actress other than McDormand (who also has a producer credit) in the part. She doesn't just become Fern, she creates her: melding Zhao's screenplay to her own fierce character in a way that feels almost uncannily real. Together, they've managed to make that rare thing: a film that feels both necessary and sublime.
  49. There's an austerity to the film — long shots of stone and candlelight, clipped dialogue — that can feel rigorous, almost grim. But Lee (God's Own Country) is only building a richer kind of mood, and priming the canvas for his actresses, who reward that faith with remarkable performances.
  50. If the movie had just a little bit of truth, it could speak to people without "relatable" pandering about how adulting is hard and men are jerks! It's easy to parade around an ostentatiously broken heart, but that only means anything if it comes with baring a little bit of soul.
  51. A quintessentially American tale; profane, profound, and beautiful.
  52. With a cast so large and so consistently good, it's nearly impossible to single out more than a few players, though it's maybe most gratifying to see Holland so far from Peter Parker mode; his performance is delicately underplayed, which is not a claim Pattinson can probably make with a straight face.
  53. Richardson and Ferreira have a sweet, sharp chemistry: one the type-A perfectionist trying desperately to keep it together, the other a hedonist in green fun fur whose outrageous exterior masks a deeper hurt.
  54. Lee's hand in all this seems to be a light one; aside from his intimate but unobtrusive camerawork, the show appears essentially unaltered from the live performance.
  55. Whether its stronger rating and more somber tone will translate to a home-bound family audience, only time and streaming revenues will tell; in the meantime, Mulan might be the closest thing to a true old-fashioned theater-going experience the end of this strange summer will see.
  56. The star works valiantly to channel Eden/Veronica's pain and confusion, and the whole humanity of a life her captors so casually dismiss. As a performer, she commits utterly; if only the story could do the same.
  57. The film lacks the atmosphere of David Lean's "Great Expectations" or the weighty iconography of any one of a number of "Christmas Carols," but a sincere affection for and understanding of the source material shines through in its wit and good nature.
  58. Mostly, the joy comes from watching Reeves and Winter on screen, two holy fools just doing their best to bring light and love and non-heinous riffs — and remind the bleary-eyed citizens of 2020, perhaps, of a simpler, sweeter world gone by.
  59. The movie's just pure fun; a cock-eyed Valentine to a place so outrageous that death or dismemberment was an actual acceptable risk — but so was the chance to live, as one former security guard fondly recalls, in “an ‘80s movie that was real life. And it will never happen again.”
  60. Buckley and Plemons are left to carry that water for much of I'm Thinking's 134-minute runtime, and they're both fantastically game, infusing the movie's heady concepts with a naturalism that borders on heroic.
  61. Yes, this stuff is cool. It is also massively complex, presented with a straight face via a script that nevertheless winks at The Protagonist’s — and our — utter confusion as Tenet's byzantine plot unfolds.
  62. Amidst all his meta tricks — the winky callouts to Wikipedia, the deliberately kitsch sets and incongruous soundtrack — Tesla’s own story ultimately fades; a small, bright light lost in the bigger spectacle.
  63. An adaptation of Krystal Sutherland’s YA novel Our Chemical Hearts, Tanne’s second film doesn’t live up to the promise of his first, lacking its texture and specificity, but still offers small insights and worthy central performances.
  64. It doesn't help that Pistorius' Rachel spends the first 75 of it like a woman who's never seen a horror movie — if there were noises in the basement, she'd run right down to investigate with a plastic spork in her hand — and the final 15 like a ninja assassin who invented them.
  65. Watching Ivan discover his love of art is intoxicating, too, particularly when his realization that he can use it to communicate results in a truly breathtaking tableau. The film’s genuine bursts of emotion, combined with the wry warmth of the vocal performances and the deftly realistic rendering of the CGI animals, give the project a silverback gorilla-sized heaping of heart.
  66. For all the patently corny bits and some 17 attempts at an ending, Power still somehow makes it easy to suspend your disbelief and your imaginary degree in biochemistry, and just let it ride.
  67. Mostly though, State tells a story both heartbreaking and hopeful: part C-Span, part Lord of the Flies, and wholly unforgettable.
  68. It feels almost churlish to fault the film for its weightlessness, when light is exactly what movies like this are meant to provide: a fizzy, sun-drenched escape from the pale monotony of our own lives.
  69. Like the garden at its heart, The Secret Garden has always found its beauty in its quietude, a small story of hearts broken and healed through nature, attentive care, and true connection. But this adaptation doesn’t understand that, instead drowning the film in showy set pieces and magical realism rather than understanding the inherent magic in all things.
  70. There are actors who can pull off dual roles, and now we know Seth Rogen isn’t one of them.
  71. Wildly unsettling and original.
  72. A film whose big ideas strain against the staid outlines of traditional screen storytelling — though budget alone can't be blamed for its odd jumps and tonal twists, from earnest biography to magical realism and back again.
  73. The subject matter brings to mind another great teen indie, 2004's brilliant "Saved!," but Yes, God, Yes doesn't skewer "moral" sex ed with the same satirical bite as that much more heightened take on the subject (a highly satisfying needle drop in the closing moments, however, could be interpreted as a quiet nod to the earlier film).
  74. At times, Amulet can feel a little too in love with style over story; immoderately hung up on gooey close-ups of gutted fish or Magda engaged in a sort of jerky, mesmerizing dance whose offbeat rhythms rival Elaine on Seinfeld. But even as it builds toward a more conventional climax — only the first, it turns out, of several twist endings — the movie casts a grim sort of spell; a brooding, stifled dread that creeps in quietly from the margins, and lingers long after the last triumphant frame.
  75. A neat, nasty little thriller with a brutally effective final third.
  76. If the setup feels quotidian, the tension still climbs steadily, egged on by Edna's increasing confusion and cognitive decline and Kay and Sam's conflicting ideas of what should be done about it. But it's the final scene, it turns out, that James has saved her chips for: a haunting tableau both gruesome and beautiful and somehow, full of love.
  77. At its core, the movie is too in love with love — or at least its messy, time-jumping ideal of it — for that kind of true discomfort comedy. That makes it less brave, maybe, but in this moment we're living in, who could begrudge a happy ending?
  78. That leaves a movie that, beneath its strong female presence and few contemporary bits of flair, has a sort of inevitable bog-standard action feel, just entertaining enough in its live-die-repeat machinations to pass the minimal engagement test.
  79. The movie maps its course by Hanks' steady hand: A ship moving swiftly and with sure purpose — compelled by death and danger, but safe in the certainty of history.
  80. Because if anyone can handle The Truth, it's Deneuve. The French icon is as magnetic as ever, and she inhabits Fabienne (which is, incidentally, her own middle name) effortlessly, with a sly self-awareness that never undermines the fiction.
  81. If it all feels like less than the sum of all that wig glue and flop sweat and silver lamé — and far short of Ferrell's best — it's also still the kind of movie that frankly, the lowered expectations of These Times are made for: Not a new song or even a very good one, but somehow still enough to hum along.
  82. In a world where a morning tweet can feel as dusty as the Dead Sea Scrolls by nightfall, it almost seems like madness to try to capture this current political moment on film.
    • 66 Metascore
    • 75 Critic Score
    Lee’s documentary is, ultimately, enjoyably nostalgic, but says little more than what we already know.
  83. Visually, the appeal of Wasp Network is undeniable — all warm, colorful, open spaces, elegantly shot and peopled with beautiful actors. The intrigue could have used some of that heat, too.
  84. It's shocking, and it should be. But Welcome finds tender, funny moments too — and even, in the end, some kind of hope.
  85. A measured if still-maddening look into the 2016 USA Gymnastics scandal.
    • 70 Metascore
    • 75 Critic Score
    John Lewis: Good Trouble is absolutely inspiring — but it stops a bit short of being illuminating.
    • 73 Metascore
    • 67 Critic Score
    Beharie remains a powerful performer, able to convey multitudes with subtlety, even if Miss Juneteenth never makes a move you didn’t see coming a mile down that country road.
  86. Even at 93 minutes, the material feels thin, and so does its moral message. But the movie's goofy, blunt-edged claustrophobia may also be its greatest gift to viewers: the chance to be grateful that the only ones haunting our own homes right now are us.
  87. Davis and "Bloodline" Emmy winner Mendelsohn, both Australian screen veterans, do the less glamorous work of being sad, angry adults, though it's often their ordinary grief that grounds the movie, even as their stories lean into the clichés of certain coping mechanisms (Pills! Infidelity! Bargaining with God!).
  88. Director Daniel Karslake (For the Bible Tells Me So) does that by homing in on singular tales — and letting them unfold largely without judgment or editorializing.
    • 82 Metascore
    • 91 Critic Score
    Lee’s latest is a crackerjack drama, directed by a filmmaker who remains in total control of his once-in-a-generation gifts and utilizes them to synthesize story and history into something new.
  89. The script, which Davidson co-wrote, is rooted in his own childhood loss; his father, too, was a fireman, killed on 9/11. In its best moments the movie resonates with those realities, though it also comes packaged, like so many Apatow films, in a kind of incurable ramble — some two-plus hours dotted with pleasingly random cameos (Pamela Adlon, Steve Buscemi) and odd tonal shifts.
  90. Even at the movie's silliest and most unsteady moments, she's (Wasikowska) the ballast: a Judy bruised but unbowed — and finally, fully ready to punch back.
  91. The timeliness of the film is particularly affecting when they all say goodbye to their loved ones, then cope with loneliness by compulsively online shopping and trying not to think about horrible possibilities over which they have no control. There are better movies than this one, sure. But this is its moment. Call it military punctuality.
  92. The movie has its moments, some of them genuinely delightful. Still, there's a world where The High Note could have struck a stronger, deeper chord, and resonated.
  93. What feels freshest, maybe, is the mere fact of two leads of color taking on all the tropes of the genre and making it feel as modern as they do.
  94. Still, there's a sort of willful energy field between Giedroyc and Feldstein that pushes the story along; the blithe, anything-can-happen thrill that comes from being young in a world where anything is possible — including the right to wreck yourself spectacularly, rebuild, and then start it all over again.
  95. As it stands, the movie is just as slick as the lifestyle it supposedly mocks.
  96. Maybe what's most frustrating is how much the movie's deeper themes — morality, mortality, the twilight of power — churn intriguingly at the edges of nearly every scene only to turn toward sentiment, or become merely secondary to its relentless focus on his physical decline. There’s merit, of course, in exploring the good and bad in every man, even one as notorious as this one; Capone, in the end, just settles for ugly.

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