Licorice Pizza

... As perversely delicious as its title.

Really stands up alongside (Anderson’s best work). It feels authentic for the time, and gives us a new star in Cooper Hoffman

Licorice Pizza, like Phantom Thread, is a study of magnetic human connection that isn’t necessarily good for either party — but then, magnetic human connection rarely thinks that way, or thinks at all.

It’s a joy, and the sort of film that like a great LP -- it’s named after a Californian record store -- you’ll want to play over and over.

Theres a looseness a dreaminess, an illogic to how it all unfolds and meanders that is somehow still incredibly authentic.

The two leads, musician Alana Haim and Cooper Hoffman, each in their feature film debut, are remarkable.

Cooper Hoffman and Alana Haim are a delight in this meandering rites-of-passage story that conjures up perfectly the sights and sounds of early-70s LA.

Like taking a time machine back to the 1970s, Licorice Pizza is a delightful piece of cinema, one rich with detail, character and an undeniably charming playfulness.

Licorice Pizza proves an aptly named film. It’s a title that captures both the hallucinogenic nostalgia of the film’s visual and musical prowess, and the bizarre nature of its story and setting.

It is a grand, fun, romantic ride, that I guess will provide even more greatness on rewatch.