In 1997, Wolfgang Petersen’s ludicrous action thriller Air Force One was about two clicks shy of full-blown fantasy: Indiana Jones is THE PRESIDENT. The President is basically JOHN McCLANE. And he and his FINGER OF DOOM are going to wag, bag, and tag every last Russkie terrorist with the temerity to try hijacking his plane. In 2018, the film has become 100 percent fantasy because now our president is a demented racist slumlord with a string of bankruptcies almost as long as his history of sexual assault, and Russians wouldn’t have to hijack Air Force One, our bloated dipshit-in-chief would not only invite them on, but hand-feed grapes to their shirtless smirking godhead. Never before would I have thought to describe this above-average actioner with the word “wistful,” but somehow we occupy the reality in which that fits. by Bobby Roberts