Nick Schager

An autobiographical critical essay with plenty of throwback style but minimal insight and even less suspense. In a summer of scary standouts, it’s the season’s biggest letdown.

Intricate, enthralling, and as psychologically rich as his best work, it’s another feather in the illustrious artist’s cap.

Has a rough-around-the-edges charm that’s in keeping with its go-for-broke protagonist.

With the possible exception of Sam Raimi and Tobey Maguire’s Spider-Man 2, it’s the wall-crawler’s best film to date.

A disaster of epic proportions.

A disaster of epic proportions.

There’s something comforting about a good-natured dim-bulb film that knows how to hit its beats, elicit a few laughs, and roll credits before its hijinks grow stale.

Think of it as a sensual and sinister reverie of daddy issues, serial killers, and set and costume design, and prepare to be equally dazzled and driven mad.

Modern mainstream films don’t come more daring, mammoth, and accomplished than Nolan’s latest.

Finds the funny in the fantastically nasty—and, in doing so, proves a stomach-churningly amusing nightmare.