The A.V. Club

Araki and Karley Sciortino’s script finds the comedy between the sheets and the vulnerability it takes to open oneself up to experimentation. It’s an outrageous story, but one that’ll provoke a few cheeky conversations and plenty of laughs.

It gets at the heart of Bourdain’s everyman appeal, the universal need for belonging and purpose, and the struggle to find your voice, both as a young adult and as a writer. Beyond its dutiful biopic services, Tony reminds its audience of the sharp turns and unlikely encounters that can change the course of our lives and give us stories to share over the dinner table.

Avatar Aang: The Last Airbender is more of a gorgeous and breezy reunion special than a case for returning to this world.

There’s some funny material with a gaggle of nefarious party girls preying on dumb bros; that ensuing slapstick brawl actually has some life to it. But any time 72 Hours threatens to launch into full-blown mayhem, Story and Hart throttle the momentum.

Wadlow has proven that he has the range to make both clumsy horror that accidentally operates as comedy and clumsy comedies that fail to lampoon horror. The Devil’s Mouth, with its grating dialogue and doggy-paddle pace, is the former. Not only is it a bad movie, it seems like it was a bad vacation.

Even when Brand New Day seems to be kicking some of its material further down the road, though, it’s a road that actually looks worth traveling. In spite of its overstuffed plot, this is the first MCU movie in ages that actively invites a direct follow-up, rather than a grudging acceptance that we’ll see the characters again in some team-up or another, while nonetheless ending on a satisfying note.

This isn’t a solemn, searing eat-the-rich satire. Rosebush Pruning is just a silly little weirdo of a movie.

Sheep In The Box takes the Nerf shotgun approach to the robot-kid movie, where even its scattered moments of impact are soft, plastic, and more annoying than anything else.

Motor City pulls up with its engine rumbling and revving, ready to unleash pulp-opera action. Eventually the air just starts to fill with exhaust.

Leading things is Johnson, who finally gets the perfect starring role for his raspy-voiced charms and overworked confidence. He anchors The Dink with his off-the-cuff style and Ricky Bobby’s dickhead arrogance.