On the surface, it can seem like an underwhelming step for a filmmaking team that delved inside the Clinton campaign in The War Room.
Imagine a Sex and the City character with Carrie’s personality and Samantha’s sex drive.
What ultimately makes it more than a dude-ranch version of the first hour of Deliverance is its ability to make fun of itself.
A different way of tackling the sons-and-fathers story, but right up there with the best of them.
And Lee and film editor Tim Squyres tie the film together in the masterful, interwoven tension of the night of the storm.
Change, or the struggle to make change fit into the established system, is Lee’s most familiar chord. He struck it loudest in The Ice Storm.
The awe-inspiring camerawork combines gorgeous color, expansive landscapes, and a set of beautifully incorporated symbols.
Bertolucci and Vittorio Storaro’s master class on epic filmmaking does David Lean better than David Lean.
The series is direct and unconfrontational, but also uninsightful.
The film is a hallmark of what is still one of cinema’s most endearing movements.
Criterion’s extras convincingly argue for Anderson as an under-recognized director of immense natural talent.
What separates it from the more fundamentally Hitchcockian 39 Steps, and makes it more remarkable, is its genuine sense of purpose.
Hitchcock and film lovers alike should not pass up this worthy copy of one of the director’s British-made masterworks.
In its constant and irreversible violence, Full Metal Jacket, one of Kubrick’s grittiest works, is also one of his most resonant.
A hyper-violent, foul-mouthed war movie that outpaces Apocalypse Now, Platoon, and a dozen others for sheer motive force.
A film of remarkable forwardness, honesty, and humor, built, like all fairy tales, around one message, summed up late in the script.
Lacking the commentaries and home-video footage that graced previous DVD releases, this pedestrian set hardly excites.
Branagh’s adaptation trades depth and cultural exploration for a few quick fireworks.
There is no lonelier American movie than The Hustler, and no better a flawed hero than “Fast” Eddie Felson.
The Hustler reaffirms your faith in the movies.