Richard Scott Larson

The ambivalence with which the film treats its main character’s revelation proves rich with complication and offers a new intervention into a genre we thought we’d fully internalized.

The film is filled with a subtextual nostalgia for a fleeting youth and the urgency of figuring things out before it’s too late.

John Krasinski is most in his comfort zone when the importance of family and legacy drives the film’s tension.

The film casts its source narrative as a delusional fantasy through which to enact the effects of possible traumas that go completely unexplored.

In a world increasingly resistant to cultural exchange, the miracle of The Little Prince is how it’s become so universally beloved, and Boonstra’s film is a worthy homage to its passionate translators who’ve been so inspired by Saint-Exupery’s story .

The story has enough pathos to fulfill the expectations of a great tragedy, but the film feels like a commercial for something else entirely.

In Mapplethorpe, the ultimate purpose of the film seems to be the reductive portrayal of the artist as yet another tormented queer destroyed by his tendencies toward vice.

This charitable act of resuscitation for the benefit of Mercury’s admirers is something that the film as a whole ultimately fails to accomplish, as Bohemian Rhapsody mistakenly believes that simply trudging through a workmanlike overview of the Queen frontman’s life will allow it to arrive at something approaching intimacy.

Perhaps the film's failure to surprise in the end is a result of leaning too heavily on a toolbox not yet translated into the language of cinematic form.

The pleasure of A Quiet Place is in John Krasinski's commitment to imagining the resourceful ways in which a family might survive in this kind of world, then bearing witness to the filmmaker's skillfully constructed methods of putting them to the ultimate test, relentlessly breaking down all of the walls the family has erected to keep the monsters out.