Ralph Hammann

The production design of this adult fairy tale is excellent. I also love that it harkens to the very grim roots of fairy tales that once upon a time were true horror stories. Imaginative and never less than interesting. Does what it set out to do with panache. And the five stars honor just that; they don’t mean that it’s a great classic film, but only that it works in its genre rather admirably and uniquely.

Superb visuals and performance by Jacob Elordi in service of a weak script, inane developments, a terrible creator in Oscar Isaac, and so overdone as to cause one not to suspend disbelief. Motivation frequently lacking or underdeveloped. Why blow up the tower? It’ll be really dramatic! Plus, a handsome creature undoes one of the most important aspects of the story. The director has too much money and shows little of the invention of his masterpiece, The Devil’s Backbone.

This is the best werewolf film since Mike Nichols’ WOLF. It is economically told, provides tense atmosphere, sufficient scares, and, importantly, works as a wonderful and succinct metaphor with welcome touches of sympathy. The best such film is The Curse of the Werewolf (with a riveting Oliver Reed), but this one comes close. And Julia Garner is a terrific presence.

It boasts great atmospheric visuals for the first part of the film that give way to an attempt to evoke monochrome of silent cinema. The story is a pastiche of better films and takes its time unspooling a plot that is neither sustained by the characters nor interest in the retelling. And Count Orlock’s portrayal is pure schlock, more trying than even Lugosi’s Dracula. Hoult is good at sweating while Willem Dafoe is ridiculous, especially when compared to the masterful Peter Cushing of the Hammer Dracula series. And the dialogue is wretched, Eggers again is overrated apart from his choices of Director of Photography and Production Design. It’s just a fever dream that can’t even sustain its own fever.

This bears no resemblance to the original which already has two worthy sequels, the widely despised (and undervalued) Heretic and the terrific Exorcist 3). It needn’t necessarily resemble it, but something other than the presence of Burstyn and cameo of Tubular Bells, ought to justify its claim of heritage. Empty script, pedestrian direction and characterization, and a total absence of atmosphere are its most memorable qualities. Friedkin’s head must be spinning in his grave.

This is one of the best in the series. Unlike many, it got under my skin and left me more than entertained. A delightful action sequence at a Cuban nightclub is counterbalanced by an existential ending that works on multiple levels.

Hugely enjoyable satire on elitist Liberals and Clinton-labeled “deplorables”, the film takes no enemies as it twists and turns to its kickass climax. Plenty of red mayhem leavened with black humor and at least one amusing reference to Orwell. Betty Gilpin is terrific with a host of superbly timed reactions, intriguing facial expressions and nuanced line delivery. She’s as powerful as any A list actor in any A list Oscar contender. Wow!

To miss this film would be to deprive oneself of one of the best performances in Cate Blanchett’s sterling career. The plot requires a few leaps of faith and challenges suspension of disbelief, but the uniformly excellent, right down to the briefest cameo, cast offer flawless support. And Blanchett is riveting in a large, complex and fascinating role. Any critic who misses this loses all authority and Is not even good enough for the compost bin.

A narrative mess with poor transitions and makeup. Strong acting, especially by Florence Pugh who rises above inadequacies of the script with its unsubtle speechifying. A poorly curated succession of pretty pictures.

This film disgusts me. Dafoe might as well be anyone walking through Julian Schnabel’s self conscious, self indulgent and pretentious mess. It is less enlightenment than obfuscation. Easily the worst attempt to capture van Gogh on film.