I think there’s ample room for Jerry’s brand of hyperbolic amplitude as an antidote to the usual mindless summer tentpole regurgitations and superhero frolics of the modern era. It’s time to take it back a notch or two, with some added vroom vroom thrown into the mix.

F1: The Movie is nearly a lap-by-lap redux of 1990’s Days of Thunder.

With few exceptions, the previous M:I films, all of which arguably compromise the best and most consistent full-throttle action series in Hollywood history, were such a joy, in part, because of the way they nimbly set up their massive heist set-pieces, upping the stakes with each turn. There are few things more deeply satisfying to watch than a tight, well-executed plan bucking against insurmountable odds, especially when the plan, even if far-fetched, feels reasonably logical. 

The film has more coherence and gravity than the recent offerings the MCU has been able to muster over the last few years.

Ryan Coogler’s horror/comedy/musical/race drama treatise presents more ideas to chew on in its 137 minute run time than some entire summers worth of Hollywood ‘tentpoles.’ 

The ride is as shaky as the dwarfs’ rickety mine cars.

Bong Joon Ho is like an avant garde chef who’s opened a pop up kitchen in some strange part of the city you don’t know very well. You don’t know what to expect, but when you try the food, it’s a brilliant combination of disparate ingredients you never would have thought to put together

The dialogue is witty, snitty, and sharp—the kind of thing Soderbergh can craft in his sleep.

Last Breath’s confining tendrils creep into nearly every scene, pulling you deeper into its suffocating grip.

As a filmmaker, octogenarian Sir Ridley Scott has opted toward the bombastic: spectacle-laced CGI effect showcases, attempting epic sweep with a fulcrum of bombardment.

Sean Baker’s pronounced humanism is one of his strongest superpowers as a director. Whether they are trans sex workers (Tangerine), young children living in a motel (The Florida Project), or con artists new to town (Red Rocket), his generosity with his characters always shines.

Instead of an organic sense of nostalgia, Here lands more like a sappy greeting card: visually appealing but hollow.