Eighth grade can be an insecurity-infested hellhole, an important transitional period that manages to feel both pointless and confusing. In art, it’s a time period ripe for ridicule and nostalgia in equal measure, but the film is better off because Burnham chooses neither route. He’s a guy bursting with things to say, but grounded by the knowledge that none of us need to give a shit about anything he says.
Some movies are entertaining. This is not one of them. Listen, I can forgive many things when it comes to this franchise because I love the concept so much. The second and third installments are a decently fun time at the movies (let’s not talk about the first), and I’ll always be a staunch defender who wishes they went even further in ridiculousness. But this? This is difficult to forgive. Aside from a few striking images and a rousing action set piece at the end, nothing about this remotely resembles a movie of even average quality.
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