Not necessarily bad in the ways I expected, but the entire film feels like a party to which I wasn't invited. The conversational rhythms, in the high-contrast black and white section, lean towards screwball, which sounds fun, except it isn't. Normally, I would appreciate the attention to detail, except the hyper-specific diction that characterizes Leonard Bernstein and Felicia Montealegre's speech creates a distancing effect (Michelle Williams did something similar in Fosse/Verdon, but it didn't distract to the same extent). Bradley…

It's always nice to see Carl Lumbly, Q'orianka Kilcher, and Mia Sara, who virtually disappeared for at least a decade.

Beyond that, though, Mike Flanagan's third Stephen King adaptation feels like a film Frankensteined from It's a Wonderful Life, The World According to Garp, Back to the Future, The Outsiders, Donnie Darko, and The Fabelmans, but without hitting the same heights as any of them.

The repetition of Walt Whitman's "I am large, I contain multitudes," for instance, recalls Robert…