Harumph. My fellow critics are comparing Pacific Rim: Uprising to a Transformers movie. I say both action and story are vastly more clear and compelling than Michael Bay's blockbusters. They're saying that it's not as soulful or heartfelt as Guillermo Del Toro's original. I say it's not trying to be; instead, it's exactly the sort of slam-bang monster movie to which Del Toro was paying extravagant homage. They're saying it's a glorified B movie; I say that's not a bad thing at all. Again I say, Harumph. Still, we mostly all agreed that The Death of Stalin was funny (but not perfectly so) about horrible things, and Unsane was smart about other horrible things.
And it could be worse: Scott Marks threw down on behalf of Flower, casting a full four stars before its grotty glory. Whaddya know, not everyone agrees with his rapturous take. Thank heaven he was able to find refuge in the unanimous critical consensus regarding the wonderfulness of artist doc Leaning into the Wind. And I'm pretty sure he surprised himself by being able to get on board with the general hubbub over Love, Simon.
Alas, both the nocturnal swoonings of Midnight Sun and the diminutive sleuthings of Sherlock Gnomes escaped our critical eye this week.
Harumph. My fellow critics are comparing Pacific Rim: Uprising to a Transformers movie. I say both action and story are vastly more clear and compelling than Michael Bay's blockbusters. They're saying that it's not as soulful or heartfelt as Guillermo Del Toro's original. I say it's not trying to be; instead, it's exactly the sort of slam-bang monster movie to which Del Toro was paying extravagant homage. They're saying it's a glorified B movie; I say that's not a bad thing at all. Again I say, Harumph. Still, we mostly all agreed that The Death of Stalin was funny (but not perfectly so) about horrible things, and Unsane was smart about other horrible things.
And it could be worse: Scott Marks threw down on behalf of Flower, casting a full four stars before its grotty glory. Whaddya know, not everyone agrees with his rapturous take. Thank heaven he was able to find refuge in the unanimous critical consensus regarding the wonderfulness of artist doc Leaning into the Wind. And I'm pretty sure he surprised himself by being able to get on board with the general hubbub over Love, Simon.
Alas, both the nocturnal swoonings of Midnight Sun and the diminutive sleuthings of Sherlock Gnomes escaped our critical eye this week.
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