Ad Astra (2019)
Ooh, a two-hour montage of Brad Pitt looking all angst-pretty under flattering hues!
Ooh, a two-hour montage of Brad Pitt looking all angst-pretty under flattering hues!
Quentin Tarantino touches himself excitedly while directing this eye-rolling self-congratulatory waste of almost three hours.
This is a lovely Lifetime movie masquerading as something more arty-farty.
I could have died from embarrassment and cringe overload while watching this.
Volcano explodes, people die, and I yawn.
Two men take one day out of a year to indulge in man-on-man-loving. What can go wrong?
This is brotherly love – and it’s exactly what you are thinking – in ballet-gobbledygook-whatever form.
Lady Gaga and Rocket Raccoon are getting it on, but seriously kids, don’t drink so much.
Box office poison Ryan Gosling is back to put those Eeyore eyes to good use: adding one more bomb to his CV.
I need to care about the characters to cry over their plight. I don’t care about any of the characters in this one.