A heckin fun movie, full of stunning action sequences and laughs and winks at the kids who grew up watching Back to the Future and Jurassic Park and E.T. and Indiana Jones.

It's pure entertainment, and gives Spielberg an easel to prop his sentimental painting on, and all the colors on his palette to do so.

For all its ferocious energy, Ready Player One strikes me as the product of a cinema of exhaustion-it's a film about having come too far and being at the end of something, where extraordinary things no longer mean much, or have become toxic.

Ready Player One is infinitesimally less than the sum of its many, many parts. Hollywood has never made such a convincing, and expensive, argument for staying home and browsing Netflix.