Watching this spy caper once was enough. But I hope they make another.
There’s something deep and melancholy there, bound up with the fleeting nature of fame, the burdens of ideology, and the psychological costs of conservatism.
A good film in which director Antoine Fuqua finds resonance with his boxer hero
A subpar riff on the alien invasion genre.
Tangerine pulls off a pretty remarkable feat.
It breaks free of the limitations of its genre and becomes something vaguely resembling Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness.
The jokes are lazy, the script is lazier, and the disposal of Lori is lazier still.
At the end of it all, the season finale moved heaven and earth to stay faithful to Martin’s narrative.
It gets enough right so that its considerable missteps are disappointing.
Let’s hope our faith isn’t misplaced.