Ansel Elgort
Two teenagers from different ethnic backgrounds fall in love in 1950s New York City.
The Goldfinch is not a secret masterpiece, but it is good, beautiful even, and is worthy of revisiting and re-evaluation.
John Crowley’s adaptation of The Goldfinch lets down its source material and is, above it all, limp Oscar-bait.
In The Goldfinch, a boy in New York is taken in by a wealthy Upper East Side family after his mother is killed in a bombing at the MoMA.
Jonathan is a rare and affecting fair, as tenuous as life is, especially when there’s a divergence within your own skin.
Baby Driver is a joyous summer film, an indelible sugar rush that is further proof that Edgar Wright is the true saviour of popcorn cinema.
I had read Veronica Roth’s Divergent before the adaptation sauntered onto cinema screens, heralded as the next The Hunger Games, and what I discovered was that I preferred the film to the book. There was more action on show, and I felt that the film fixed many of the things I found problematic with the book’s narrative. So when I discovered that the book of Insurgent didn’t impress, I decided to bypass it and wait for the film.
