FC legend Sandy Bullock steers this bus directly into the tepid waters of a reboot with absolute confidence. Ocean’s 8 is a high wire act; balancing a splash of the old with the wave of a new. And from the start, with flawless clarity, we learn that this is her film.

Honestly, the heist was a bit, well, meh. But we are heartily invested in Debbie’s (Bullock) familial and criminal history and the relationship between the two. Lou (Blanchett), eccentrically clothed and criminally seasoned, carries just enough believable moxie to validate their playfully tensile relationship that clearly stems from a tandem villainous past.

The cheeky obvious funnels us directly into the silly theft but serves well to introduce Nine Ball (Rihanna). A lightning quick hacker, Nine Ball pockets every scene she banks owing to her clever nonchalance. In contrast, the darling vanity of Daphne (Hathaway) jammed the pace a bit, causing slightly more anxiety than affection. But the enjoyable disdain for Claude (Armitage) adds gravity to the film’s delightful second half.

Set to a splendid signature score, Ocean’s 8 inspires our mischievous spirit as we rally for lovable felons. Debbie and Co. cachet 4.11 sparkling napkins out of 5.

Happy days are here at FC HQ as Ron Howard pulled his best Fonzie and punched the proverbial jukebox on this back-saga. In shuffling through the old records of the overtly selfish yet sympatico smuggler, we value this enlightenment and entertainment yet we also run upstairs to make sure our old Solo figurines are pristine. And that’s just fine.

Han (Ehrenreich) is bathed in manipulation and deceit, but humorously, so we love him for it. And this film lobs itself into the Star Wars tempo nicely as most characters, even moreso than Han, are spun with impurity, comedic or malicious, in their intentions. Well, except for Chewie (Suotamo) who humorously lends his balance to Han’s shady conscience from the beginning.

Solo begins Han’s history with the Millennium Falcon and, ergo, introduces Lando (Glover) and his effortless cool, portrayed flawlessly. Han’s slippery relations with Qi’ra (Clarke) percolate and, as she plays all the boys, we see the only sincere character might be current novio, Vos (Bettany). And, as Beckett (Harrelson) bestows curious nuggets, we accelerate into the cushions between a mobster and a rebellion.

Solo, the film, is double the fun, as our favorite Corellian bootleger runs 4.61 napkins out of 5.

An amble through The Room of Reviews here at FC HQ might spark the notion that Deadpool 2 would end up, well, dead in the pool. Now, with similar maturity but higher intelligence, this version of The People’s Elbow on pop culture successfully blends the wit with the daft. And we are left to wade in a puddle of insignificance and wonder if we have gotten younger.

Captained by the rejuvenated and reincarnated funnyman, Deadpool/Wilson (Reynolds), and anchored by FC favorites, Collins/Firefist (Dennison) and Summers/Cable (Brolin), we sit on the precipice of impending humor for the duration as Deadpool’s inability to die combats his desire to perish. This quirky narrative overflows with sarcasm and leads to unique physical comedy as DP’s morbid humor and humility thankfully replace his initial tiresome arrogance.

This transition surfaces perfectly as Deadpool high dives into the gags and his newly assembled team skydives into a hilarious attempt at heroism; all prefaced by the revelation of Domino’s (Beetz) fortunate superpower. And Dopinder (Soni) is always present to steal scenes with heightened ambitions and general charm.

To the probable joy of Deadpool himself, DP2, falls just short of the FC Elite with 4.37 napkins out of 5.

Here at FC HQ, theorizing the infinite combinations in Infinity War has whipped our offices into complete chaos. And with parallel story lines intersecting all over the galaxy, how, in the name of Blaise Pascal, can a watchable film be the product? But, gasp, this film defies the math.

From the go, the futility of The Avengers in the face of Thanos (Brolin) is cocooned in the fantastic villainry of Ebony Maw (Vaghan-Lawlor) whose intelligence and metaphysical mastery are visually stunning and the perfect complement to his arrogant condescension. The new, and humorous, Thor (Hemsworth) paired with the Guardians forces Quill (Pratt) to summon his machismo but our eye was fixed to the gadgetry and hilarity of Rocket (Cooper) as he internalizes Thor’s species knowledge deficiencies.

Even more alluring is Stark (Downey Jr.) settling into his best performance in the entire series. Our tenured and quippy hero refreshingly folds into a practical leader rather than a bogarter of scenes as he rears one of our favorites, Parker (Holland), through the Avenger ranks.

It’s a wild ride through galaxy but we aren’t Chris Tucker-ed and unaware of what just hit us. This Avengers installment captures 4.1 infinity napkins out of 5.

Our cat friendly offices here at FC HQ were lively for this canine cut from Wesley Anderson. If only this stop motion picture could have stopped motioning towards its boisterous humans, the film would have been such a treat. But, ultimately, the story finds its way through.

Trash Island, the respite for canine saturation after the spread of dog flu laid to bare the hazards of over-puppy-population, is the filthy flat for our pack of exiled pals. Chief (Cranston), Rex (Norton), King (Balaban), Boss (Murray) and Duke (Goldblum) calmly discuss their unforgettable meals and current flailing. This roundtable gives the film its favor. They encounter the little pilot, Atari (Rankin) and the quest for Spots (Schreiber) begins. The film’s early yarn, to the beat of The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band, was charmingly constructed with a creative heart.

This careful curation and stunning detail was run amok by the noisy and messy stream of human interference in our dog tale. Tracy’s (Gerwig) pursuit of a government cover-up rusted the allure in a way that was lucid but still prickly. Yet Anderson’s charm is fetching in the end as Isle of Dogs chews up 3.36 napkins out of 5.

Steve Spielberg selects the past for the futuristic Ready Player One. And whilst joysticking down memory lane, we find ourselves leveling up the pitfalls of hammy references with the quirky thrill of a brainy quest; making for a somewhat annoying yet moderately hip trip, like the 80s.

We pick up the story in The Columbus Stacks after the corn syrup droughts have left a bleak outlook for reality and, ergo, the population has spiraled into the virtual realm. The OASIS creator is serial 80s gamer Halliday (Rylance) who, implying that sometimes you want to go where everybody doesn’t know your name, launches a scavenger hunt within the OASIS. The idea of which is quite rad but an oddity develops as we disconnect from the actual real world characters. That is, Watts (Sheridan) and Cook (Cooke) are bland versions of Parzival and Art3mis, respectively, and we want their narrative to shrivel in comparison even though they’re meant to be heroic.

The story gets lost in its own jet wash as Spielberg stuffs a full suitcase but that doesn’t ruin the film. It’s still fairly fun. Ready Player One doesn’t set the Film Clas high score, though, tallying 2.88 napkins out of 5.

If you put a sawbuck on Thoroughbreds to win, place or even be a good show, you took the loss. Finley falls off the saddle in his attempt at neo-noir by betting on an outlandish story hidden inside a flailing one.

As we ride into the affluent Connecticut suburbs, Amanda (Cooke) and Lily (Taylor-Joy) are former pals reconnected through SAT prep. Amanda, who doesn’t feel any emotion, convinces Lily, who hides her obvious emotions behind a plastic smile, to eliminate her stepdad, Mark (Sparks). Mark is a wealthy, stern and humorless jerk but certainly not worthy of this plot hatched in backyard tennis courts. But is he just the manifestation of unjust societal pressures? To be honest, we are not compelled enough to care.

Tim (Yelchin), the hitman, arrives to whisk in some blundering madness to the mess, except he doesn’t. He is, in fact, an unfunny add-on who yips about his pusher plans. However, the film’s essential moments revolve around his ineptitude. And Amanda’s portrayed sadistic intelligence presents as nothing more than forced fluff instead of street sense.

The film tries to outsmart itself. Beware the perils of plagiarism as Thoroughbreds can only pony up 1.79 napkins out of 5.

With FC favorite and story purr-fector, Ryan Coogler, perched behind the lens of Black Panther, the film honors vintage written material while advancing comic film making in splendid fashion. And it’s all we hoped for.

Wakanda represents a refreshing symmetry between a superhero origin story and the proximity to the origin of humanity. A nation hidden from the rest of the world and of vast beauty and resource, it exists as highly technical yet firmly traditional. Also rich with vibranium, Wakanda invites the envy and fancy of arms dealer Klaue (Serkis) and the revenge of jilted Killmonger (Jordan). Killmonger, familial nemesis to T’Challa (Boseman), brilliantly juices empathy, although a foe. Just in a slight glance, we find traits of greed, integrity, spite, strength, stubbornness and power all in play. And it’s natural.

T’Challa has a sister, Shuri (Wright), who soothes with her cadence and dominates with her intelligence. The rhythm of her appearances, brilliantly choreographed by Coogler, breathes cool and calm into the MCU mayhem, albeit minimal, that tries to creep into the film.

An epic, beautifully cast and just completely enjoyable film, Black Panther is groomed for Film Clas Elite status with 4.76 out of 5 napkins.

Our name is Luca! Or at least we wish as Luca Guadagnino delivers an emotionally transcendent story in Call Me By Your Name. As he brings us to the early 80s and drops us in Northern Italian lakes and streets, we frolic and savor. But we leave in bits.

Elio (Chalamet), the professor’s son, is as carefree as they come, as he will explain. Oliver (Hammer) is the American invader without self control, as played out with a soft-boiled egg, and somewhat of a muse. Elio’s relations with Marzia (Garrel) are culminating while he is enamored with every encounter of Oliver. In the picturesque and uninhibited environs of Lombardy, and certainly the outdoor dinner table, the narrative triangulates with these three characters. But we also remark highly of Mr. Perlman (Stulhbarg), Elio’s father and subtle observer throughout, who delivers an unforgettable articulation of love for his son.

The film is as linguistically gorgeous as it is scenic. Chalamet’s talent bursts with flawless transitions between English, French, Italian and even Bach as he expresses himself and his faint reticence with Oliver. Call Me By Your Name screams into the Film Clas Elite with 4.89 napkins out of 5.

Yonebayashi beguiles as Mary and The Witch’s Flower blossoms into a wonderful narrative filled with complicated mystery and beauty but also a trademark caring simplicity. And we all can take solace in the rhythm and continuity displayed by Studio Ponoc.

Mary is a brazen child; impulsive yet unintentionally clumsy and admittedly upset with her miscues. She feels alone but lovingly cared for by her great-aunt Charlotte as her parents and other children are away. While waiting for familiarity to arrive, she wanders, against the advice of her adversarial new friend Peter, into the misty woods where even her infuriating red hair will become complimentary. From there, it’s the brilliant story of discovery leading to adventure to be illuminated by realization that warms the soul.

Mary is supported magnificently by a diverse cast, perfectly surly cats and stunning visuals. A recurrent and punctual broomstick handler, Flanagan, amuses with every pop-up encounter while mantras of greed and genetic manipulation eerily creep up throughout. And the special acknowledgement of Mary Stewart’s book, on which the film was based, was well placed.

Here, we marvel at the true creatives in storytelling as Mary and The Witch’s Flower charms with 4.88 napkins out of 5.