What Joe Wright's Cyrano lacks in excitement is largely made up for in consistency of tone, and that would be a backhanded compliment at best if the tone weren't so consistently sincere, playful, touching, and romantic.

Dog is a friendly, sentimental dramedy in which Channing Tatum takes a road trip with a canine. The movie really only falters when it tries to be anything else.

Even if you've read the author's 1937 novel more than once – or have instant recall of the peerlessly eccentric 1978 readings of Peter Ustinov, Maggie Smith, Bette Davis, and company – there's still an awful lot here to enjoy.

Despite the rough language, physical peril, and copious nudity, this franchise extender is a family film. Its stunts are beyond crude, but its heart is unfailingly sweet.

This past weekend, I spent three-and-a-half hours watching movies in Iowa City. I also spent three-and-a-half hours reading movies in Iowa City.

The short version is that it's a queasy morality fable about a fallen woman who, due to the love of a faultless man, ultimately discovers the grace of God and mends her wicked ways. The longer version is that this earnest, tacky, largely offensive trifle is – thanks to a handful of unexpectedly resonant performances – a lot less icky than it should have been. Damned actors. The good ones can make almost anything bearable.

While this latest, incessantly meta sequel is frequently clever and easily watchable, it also kept reminding me, unfortunately, that there's a fine line between smart and smarty-pants.

There's nothing much wrong with the action thriller The 355 that couldn't have been fixed with a better director and a better script.

Welcome to my 21 for '21 – a list of 21 cinematic favorites from 2021 (even if they were technically 2020 releases, and even if they didn't literally play at cinemas), along with 21 runners-up, and, because I'm only in half-bitchy critic mode these days, 10-and-a-half citations for the most egregious offenders of the past 12 months.

From its opening Meet Cute to its inspired roster of satiric figures to its rapturous finale in which two youths literally fall for each other (and into each other), Licorice Pizza all but bubbles over with euphoric high jinks, platonic-rom-com wit, and an unmissable desire to give audiences a great time. It's like the movie version of a chocolate-covered pretzel: salty and sweet, and something that, once consumed, makes you instantly crave more.

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