The last thing I expected from a Mission: Impossible movie was franchise-brained, “ this” grandstanding. My critical consciousness knew that its first hour — a key-jingling clipshow designed to haphazardly connect the mythology of eight films — was feckless in its pandering. But here’s the rub: I didn’t really care. The Mission: Impossible movies are like my children — I love them all — and instead of seeing the endless montages of Missions past as the onset of incurable franchise-itis,…
Teorema for blunt cowards. Instantly artificial and so desperate to transgress when it’s only tedious and obvious, Saltburn is exactly what you get when you reverse-engineer shock for the most sexless generation of TikTokers and consumers who can’t consume unless there’s a Subway Surfers video playing. Destined to be hacked to bits by annoying YouTube and Twitter clip grabbers screaming about “this crazy movie,” everything in Saltburn meant to provoke is meticulously, disingenuously manufactured for faux outrage and gasps from…
