Slant Magazine's Scores

For 7,772 reviews, this publication has graded:
  • 33% higher than the average critic
  • 3% same as the average critic
  • 64% lower than the average critic
On average, this publication grades 6.3 points lower than other critics. (0-100 point scale)
Average Movie review score: 59
Highest review score: 100 Mulholland Dr.
Lowest review score: 0 Jojo Rabbit
Score distribution:
7772 movie reviews
  1. While it tries to relate a story about the sloppiness of life, the way best-laid plans can go wrong in an instant, its script is neatly and tidily structured.
  2. The question of why one should actually work up any emotional investment in what happens to these people is never really answered, much less asked in the first place.
  3. Another well-upholstered but cheap exercise in luxe pandering that fails as romantic farce.
  4. A glorified act of hero worship that leaves one hard-pressed to form any conclusion other than an infinitely positive one about Shep Gordon.
  5. The narrative is helplessly adrift, a yarn that extols vague grit and determination with no discernible through line.
  6. Kat Coiro's film takes the comedy of discomfort to new levels of cringe-worthiness by presenting.
  7. A broad, crude mutilation of Emile Zola's noirish romance Thérèse Raquin that prioritizes heavy petting over plot.
  8. If your answer to the question "When are rape jokes funny?" is anything aside from "never," the good news is that you may still find a lot to hoot over throughout the film.
    • 55 Metascore
    • 25 Critic Score
    A lazily constructed documentary that doesn't hide first-time director Spencer McCall's admitted lack of understanding for his subject.
  9. Watching this bloated mélange of derivative fantasy tropes unfold is akin to being forced to follow the efforts of a particularly ham-fisted gamer, with the viewer being jerked back and forth across countless busy CGI landscapes by a plot that's utterly predictable when it isn't confusing.
  10. As the film moves from one musical performance to another, the result increasingly feels like a series of celebrity impersonations set to a best-of-punk compilation album.
  11. The film turns the miscommunication between cultures into an utterly lifeless romantic comedy best appreciated as a travel guide for first-time tourists to Paris.
  12. Several reels' worth of ugly, unshaped footage that wouldn't have been deemed fit for a movie's end-credit outtakes not so long ago.
  13. The film's fealty to history is both unnecessary and a hindrance, pulling us out of a story that could have easily been set in an anonymous city hit by a nondescript hurricane.
  14. What's missing, in the end, is any provocative or poignant insights into the "truth" about Emanuel; all we get are vague hints.
  15. It adds more grist for the mill to the notion that studios don't hit the big red "reboot" button in any other state than a panic.
  16. It's tructured in familiar, safe terms, plays for very low stakes, and appeals to no one so much as white, male teenagers with chips on their shoulders.
  17. As sumptuous as it is immensely shallow, the film practically revels in its attention to lush English landscapes as a means to distract from its derivative storytelling.
  18. Bille August's film is a protracted, soporific trip into Portuguese history that would like to be a romantic thriller.
  19. You may feel as if you're watching two or three abbreviated episodes of Law & Order in quick succession rather than a fully realized movie.
  20. Ian Softley is far too interested in the minutia of the plot to bother with the Chabrolian elements of bourgeois excess or the Hitchcockian themes of mistaken identity.
  21. Strands of Simon Pegg's amiable persona are found in the film's more tolerable bits, but even this seasoned vet's unique voice is lost amid the glut of references to other work.
  22. Its virtues as throwback don't elide the foolhardly decision to imprint an ancient mythology on a contemporary superhero framework.
  23. The film is at once devoted to corroborating and casting an exaggerated light on Soviet paranoia and the state's rhetoric of unmasking its enemies.
  24. David Gelb doesn't evince so much as a single compositional sleight of hand, merely delighting in turning lights on and off and watching Zoe appear in random places.
  25. It ascribes to the falsehood that a rarefied milieu inherently infuses a film with intelligence, as if inept execution can be covered up by pretty lensing.
  26. Just as Michael Douglas doesn't have it in his guts to make Oren a real son of a bitch (a grandpa Gekko), Diane Keaton's jangled neurotic tics lack any dramatic import.
  27. It's hard to tell if the film is hampered or helped by the performances of its three stars, because it's so amateurishly written and directed that their participation beggars belief.
  28. The payoff is a huge and telling visual howler, summarizing the entire plot with a blithe indifference that will inevitably mirror the audience's.
  29. The film can't reconcile Ron Rash's apocalyptic tenderness with its own eagerness to revel in romantic star allure.
  30. There's little doubt where Cormac McCarthy-bashing Sparks's allegiances lie. The Longest Ride is truly no country for old ambiguity.
  31. It's hard to see the fiscal woes at the center of Zach Braff's second feature as anything more than a fashionable depiction of first-world problems.
  32. Cavemen is an apt title considering how the sensibility and maturity of the film's characters don't seem to have developed beyond primal, alpha-man impulses.
  33. It takes the easiest approach to every scene, haphazardly juggling different tones without integrating them into a cohesive and consistent thematic identity.
  34. Rich Hill is poverty porn, examining lower-class spaces with pity as its operative mode and engendering little more than a means for viewers to leave the film acknowledging its sadness.
  35. Josh Heald's script takes the easy way out, ending the film with a torrent of slapdash sentimentality.
  36. It's not even made clear whether the machines can feel pain. But after sitting through Fire & Rescue, interminable even at a lean 83 minutes, I sincerely hope they do.
  37. Drive Hard is the action-film equivalent of one of those folks who relentlessly speak of having it tough all over as they plan their third yearly vacation.
  38. The film cartoonishly admonishing Big Oil while hypocritically fetishizing the gas-guzzling appetite of a cute and cuddly machine-creature hybrid.
  39. Aside from being another rote addition to the revenge-film canon, John Stockwell's In The Blood is also a supreme waste of Gina Carano's talent.
  40. The filmmakers largely stand out of Will Ferrell and Kevin Hart's way, but they also refuse to modulate the story's racial humor with any sense of subversion.
  41. If ever there was a movie equivalent of dad bod, Entourage is it.
  42. With dubious scruples, and much Broadway-style caterwauling, the film imagines what The Wizard of Oz would look like with a should-have-gone-straight-to-video chimney on her.
  43. The film's dialogue is knowing and the action sequences are elaborate, but not only in ways that advance the shady story toward its hokey denouement.
  44. Like any serving of junk food, it seems engineered to give you that initial rush of satisfaction, but leaves you in a dead zone where the only thing you want is more of the same.
  45. Red is the kind of lazily written, thankless curmudgeon role that uses the trials of advanced age for cheap laughs rather than harnessing a veteran actor's talent to engage our empathy.
  46. It transforms itself from a meek lo-fi indie stalker thriller in the key of May to a hysterically sexist and homophobic revenge film.
  47. Robin Williams once again proves he can insufferably crank the energy to 11 without batting an eye, only this time his frenzied comic demeanor is replaced with equally harried contempt.
  48. Jerome Sable's debut feature couldn't be further from De Palma's delirious cinematic essays on vision and genre.
  49. The film, based on the novel by Gayle Forman, is an almost deliberate confirmation of Alison Bechdel's claim that women in film are so often shown only in relation to men.
  50. Rather than commit to exploring Jessabelle's existential crisis, the filmmakers opt to pile on the clichés straight until the rotten denouement.
  51. Paco Cabezas's film is little more than a revenge relic pretending that the ethical treatise of David Cronenberg's A History of Violence never happened.
  52. It becomes clear pretty quickly that Mike and Carlos Boettcher's insider perspective allows for close to no context beyond what their cameras directly capture.
  53. This is less a movie than a dutiful renewal of a recognizable title's licensing rights.
  54. The women of the film certainly deserve better, as they're often relegated to the role of victim, harmed or murdered simply to propel the plot along.
  55. Guy Ritchie may have creatively moved on from his Tarantino-inspired debut, but international crime cinema has not, as again evidenced by Magnus Martens's film.
  56. The film is like an episode of Gossip Girl that's mistaken itself for one of the great satires by Evelyn Waugh.
  57. Even permitting that the movie's setup counts almost by default as one of Nicholas Sparks's more complicated scenarios, that makes his failure to draw up compelling, flawed, human characters all the more conspicuous.
  58. In the end, any and all potential B-movie fun is extinguished by Ragnarok's depressingly listless anonymity.
  59. The characters, the sets, and the scenes all exist to propagate the notion that pleasure derives from repetition and remediation.
  60. It culminates in a weepy climax that verifies its status as a proud hunk of propaganda from America's massive self-help industry.
  61. Never once does it project an intuitive understanding of how humans would behave or react in the midst of such a shattering misfortune.
  62. The filmmakers are content to idealize everyone's unchecked narcissism and idle privilege--an inquiry-free recipe for disaster in an age when the American wealth gap is wider and more detrimental than ever.
  63. It merely exudes an aura of cheap manipulation by which the audience is simply asked to rank the film's characters on a d-bag scale and root for their survival, or destruction, accordingly.
  64. It's attempt at conveying a candid portrait of contemporary hookup culture and the dishonesty of online dating profiles, but the film's sentiments are all past their expiration date.
  65. It comes as no surprise that writer-director Vincent Grashaw wrote the first draft of this movie soon after graduating high school.
  66. If the film defies conventional form, it does so without the gravitas that conceptual cohesion brings, quickly rendering its experimentation into gratuitous aesthetic masturbation.
  67. Ben-Hur director Timur Bekmambetov offers nothing new to the cinematic lexicon of the chariot race.
  68. From its first draw of blood onward, it bolts down a foreseeable slasher-movie trajectory, laying on thick the dramatic irony while constantly inventing new reasons to punish its characters for old iniquities.
  69. The film quickly settles into a depressingly one-note groove as a culture-clashing circus act.
  70. There's a disingenuous offering of pathos to accompany the film's ridiculous and violent denouement.
  71. It purports to be an incisive character study dramatized through outré "dream logic," but Sharon Greytak's ineptitude at this very Lynchian aesthetic sucks all nuance and spirit out of the film.
  72. As in Judd Apatow's films, crassness is boasted as shamelessness, and calculated sentimentality is dressed up as empathy.
  73. It alternates awkwardly between shrill, borderline misogynistic sex farce and desperately gory, pun-rife creature feature.
  74. As characters endlessly digress on the differences between rom-coms and real life, the film evinces a schizophrenic relationship with its own inside-baseball cynicism.
  75. The flick is an artless, puerile shadow of the likes of Edgar Wright and Simon Pegg's Cornetto trilogy.
  76. Every creature here that's intended to burrow themselves into the audience’s nightmares are less wonders of imagination than of size.
  77. Father doesn't just know best, he's the only one whose knowledge or lack thereof means anything at all.
  78. It's impossible to even laugh at Inferno given how Ron Howard reduces the material to a dull spectacle of earnest puzzle-solving.
  79. If first-timer Aleksander Bach's choices as a director are any indication, he's a filmmaker who cares less about characters and actors than about dubious surface dazzle.
  80. It ultimately lacks the vision and conviction to honestly and meaningfully dissect a contemporary political movement's deep-seated structural malaise.
  81. Like the recruited criminals themselves, the film longs to be bad, yet its forced by outside pressures to follow narrow, preset rules.
  82. It ironically reveals its intent to suture shut any remote ambivalence regarding its own gung-ho ethos, in effect engaging the same sort of oppressively dogmatic tactics it so outwardly denigrates.
  83. Criminal's absence of style, the lack of relish the filmmakers take in the material's inherent ludicrousness, is a failure of conviction.
  84. This is kind of didactic topical movie that distributes its rhetoric evenly between characters with clear distinction as to who's playing devil's advocate to the other one's points.
  85. Some voices of reason and skepticism do make an appearance to rebut and deflate Bill and Aubrey's monumental claims, but aren't allowed to fully elaborate on their arguments.
  86. The film provides no space to explore its relationships, and as a result there’s little friction to the climax.
  87. Here's a documentary so insidious, so comprehensively scrubbed clean, that it argues for the therapeutic powers of consumerism.
  88. It punks its impressionable audience into believing a lie, then punishes them for their foolishness.
  89. Nancy Meyers is unquestionably committed to her auteurist signature of giving her female protagonists their cake and letting them eat it too.
  90. The characters shout themselves hoarse, but they don't really say anything, and it isn't long before we feel like hostages ourselves, bound by the filmmakers' strained moral outrage.
  91. The title of Youssef Delara and Victor Teran's new film pretty much sums up its shallow and exploitative take on mental illness.
  92. The feeling here was perhaps intended to be impressionistic and elusive, but the result is instead rambling and unfocused.
  93. The prevailing attitude behind the film can be boiled down to a simplistic idea: the cruder, the better.
  94. Rings is unsure as to whether it’s a sequel to the other entries in the series or a contemporary reboot.
  95. Commingling industry shoptalk with introspective insights and wrangling testimonials, the film casts an incredibly wide net, but doesn't reveal much of anything.
  96. If all a movie needed was a boy with abs and a gun (or slingshot), then Beyond the Reach would be a masterpiece.
  97. The premise, of a terrible event unleavened by the easy out of someone being at fault, should be prime fodder for Wim Wenders's brand of poetic regret.
  98. The only thing that could've made Sofia Vergara's misguided contribution grislier would have been to fellate a Chiquita banana.

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