John Madden’s Miss Sloane reminded me of a bad John Grisham novel. Which may mistakenly suggest that there are good John Grisham novels. Though if one were to ascribe a kind of Grisham-curve onto Miss Sloane, where Grisham’s grishamness is ascribed some metric of virtue, than Madden’s film would still fall considerably short of any threshold of quality. Miss Sloane is just a poor film, through and through. It’s a deathly self-serious yet utterly preposterous film that probably would’ve garnered a couple of Oscar nominations back in the 90s. We liked Grisham back in the early 90s, right? Boy, am I glad those days are behind us.