The Grand Budapest Hotel is quintessential Wes Anderson—colorful whimsy so carefully designed it smothers the emotional resonance it so desperately wants to achieve.

In his follow-up to 2011’s Coriolanus, director Ralph Fiennes fails to make a Dickensian story about Charles Dickens come to life.

James Bond’s 23rd big-screen adventure rocks hard, somberly and even mournfully. It doesn’t celebrate the glamorous lifestyle of a dashing spy so much as it makes you worry about him and his Ma’am.

“The people are the city!” That line appears just once in Shakespeare’s play detailing the rise and fall of fifth-century B.C. Roman war hero and politician Caius Martius Coriolanus (Ralph Fiennes), just as public opinion is turning ugly towards him and his anti-populist attitudes. Ralph Fiennes makes his debut as a director in an adaptation of that play, and in his and screenwriter John Logan’s version, set in modern times, that line becomes a rallying cry for the people who oppose Coriolanus in his bid to follow military success with a run at becoming a Roman consul.