You’re better off daydreaming about whatever casually biting thing Kstew will inevitably say to him in Charlie’s Angels, watching the music video for the massively underrated bubblegum bliss known as Boombox by Laura Marano or wondering why Camila Mendes is already giving Season 5 of Gossip Girl level bored performances and if that means she’s also headed for the creative revitalization of Blake Lively in a few years
The best case scenario of style over substance, where anybody using that as a criticism is being lazy.
I love stories that show how absolutely thrilling drugs can be, but also how psychotically psychotic they can be - usually in the same night.
I love stories that reveal who their characters are through their conversations to one another, instead of doling out their backstories via exposition or tired scene-setting.
I love stories that understand dance on a primal level and…
Every second of this film is overflowing with real and raw emotion - the stories of American women who are fed up, angry and committed to making change. Heroes, in other words.
Keep an eye out for this one, if for nothing else than proof (did you really need more?) that Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez is The Real Deal.
The first hour is sheer perfection, enough that I could ignore the old man behind me who had his foul smelling feet out for the duration of the film.
The second hour had enough (minor) bumps that I could no longer ignore The Stench, but dammit, if the ending (and final shot!!!!!) don’t just WORK.
A full half-star revoked for the film’s irrational hatred of backup dancers.