EDITED BY ALAMIN YOHANNES
Sorry to Ed Sheeran, Dear Evan Hansen, Sia and more of this year’s pop culture flops.
With Guy Ritchie, you can usually at least count on some jazzy, crime-y style. But Jason Statham looks so rightfully bored in this bone-tired heist thriller that even killing Post Malone can't cheer him up.
It places Thomas Harris' indelible character into a lifeless, grim-gray CBS crime procedural. It adds low-rent Silence of the Lambs "flashbacks" whenever it's told.
He's funny and charming and can soft-shoe like a tiny Gene Kelly. So why does Tom Holland keep spending his Spider-Man breaks on overbaked, self-serious bummers?
The paint-by-numbers melodies, the cloying lyrics, the (continued) weaponization of our mathematics system. For Ed, bad habits = bad music.
Because nothing says "high school heart-warmer" like an uncanny-valley Ben Platt — already a decade past his choir-club sell date at 28 — playing a warbly, morally corrupt teenager.
The Dick Wolf-ization of TV continues with this slapdash, self-referential spin-off — a lazy pastiche of gore and titillation.
The host was just doing his job, sure. But his Flavor Flav hopped up on a case of Red Bull energy was a grating contrast to the reunion's genuinely moving moments with the cast reminiscing on their own.
Just imagine if Leo in Inception was a postapocalypse Hugh Jackman, the spinning top was a holographic memory machine, and everything that happened on screen got explained to you seven more times in a voice-over.
Music does not make the people come together. But it does make the people wonder why Sia (yes, the pop singer) thought to herself, "Let me put Leslie Odom Jr. and Kate Hudson in a kicky little autism fandango and let them fly!"
Lorde's descriptions of the new Lorde album ("a celebration of the natural world!") were, sadly, more interesting than the new Lorde album (sleepy, undercooked).