I’m not sure what else can be said about The Book of Henry after the Internet gave it a straight-up, bewildered drubbing, but that won’t stop me from sharing the review I cobbled together for Paste Magazine. I don’t mind saying that this, Colin Trevorrow’s choice of post-Jurassic World, pre-Jurassic World 2, pre-Star War:s Episode IX work, left me completely and hopelessly befuddled; if you were in the theater with me when the film screened for Boston’s press, you probably heard me shouting, “WHAT *WAS* THAT?!” as the credits rolled. It’s a very particular and rare kind of terrible.
A Constant Visual Feast 