Owen Gleiberman Chief Film Critic The movie-stars-are-over era has been overstated. If audiences are now drawn to movies not for stars but for franchise concepts, I’m not sure how to fit the career of Timothée Chalamet into that; Emma Stone and Zendaya would also like a word.
That said, when you watch George Clooney and Brad Pitt in “Wolfs,” a clever, airy, winningly light-fingered and debonair action comedy about two rival fixers who have to learn to work together, you’d be forgiven for describing the sensation you feel as movie-star nostalgia.
These two have been stars since the ’90s, and no one, least of all themselves, is pretending that they’re young. Yet no one makes aging into the new cool more than they do.
Clooney is the rare actor who has always worn his gray like the essence of glamour (when you catch a shot of him in the old days, the dark hair looks all wrong), and now, at 63, with a silver beard and hair not just two-tone but marbled, he’s achieved a kind of fine-wine mystique.
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