Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny: a feeble last crack of the whip
The Harrison Ford franchise that began with spectacle and wit has ended with a dull, predictable, CGI-laden dud.
By
Ryan Gilbey is the New Statesman's film critic. He is also the author of It Don't Worry Me (Faber), about 1970s US cinema, and a study of Groundhog Day in the “Modern Classics" series (BFI Publishing).
The Harrison Ford franchise that began with spectacle and wit has ended with a dull, predictable, CGI-laden dud.
By Ryan GilbeyThe wretchedly self-absorbed lead and her artist boyfriend are truly, absurdly awful. To what end?
By Ryan GilbeyRaine Allen-Miller’s visually dynamic debut turns a boy-meets-girl story into a joyous fantasy.
By Ryan GilbeyFrom Winnie the Pooh: Blood and Honey to The Gay Gatsby, the expiry of copyright on popular literature has…
By Ryan GilbeyThe director’s 34th feature – and the first to turn the camera on himself – ranks as one of…
By Ryan GilbeySadim Sadiq’s film about a married man and a trans woman was censored in Pakistan – but has won…
By Ryan GilbeyIn Brett Morgen’s new unconventional documentary, there are no facts, no dates, and a lot of the Starman himself.
By Ryan GilbeyCate Blanchett stars as a master composer caught in a #MeToo scandal in Todd Field’s genre-bending film.
By Ryan GilbeyThis conventional, sanitised version of the singer’s life is an endless highlight reel, with no room for the unsavoury…
By Ryan Gilbey