La Mission at least has the virtue of an intermittent interest in probing the circumstances that give rise to homophobia.
Until the cheap sentiment of its finale, The Greatest feels like a generally honest look at the grieving process.
Criterion is every bit as committed in their treatment of contemporary filmmakers as they are with the old masters.
At least for the film’s first half, Atom Egoyan shows a flair for efficient storytelling.
In Every Day Is a Holiday, what at first seems like suggestive vagueness ends up being simply vague.
Rigoberto Perezcano’s film is quiet and reflective where Sin Nombre is noisy and tense.
Wheatley’s film follows up a strong first half with a rather less productive second act.
Everybody’s got their secrets in City Island, something we’re reminded of early and often by writer-director Raymond De Felitta.
The film’s skillful editing and staging conveys a feeling of ever tightening pressure.
N.C. Heikin’s Kimjongilia is a classic case of a documentary filmmaker not trusting her material.
The central story is rich enough to overcome much of Luca Guadagnino’s odd and arguably unmotivated catalogue of visual and aural trickery.
A sort of reductio ad absurdum of the long-take approach to filmmaking, How I Ended This Summer is tedium incarnate.
Last Train Home is effective at making palpable the displacements wrought by a population shift.
After a while, the film’s rather sparse array of material begins to point up an essential thinness to the project.
The interracial meet-the-parents setup pioneered in Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner gets a modest comic update in Our Family Wedding.
If nothing else, Stolen gives viewers a chance to see James Van Der Beek made up into a sneering, splotch-faced septuagenarian.
The film’s visual component serves principally to emphasize the essential chaos of armed conflict.
On Blu-ray, the vibrant seaside universe of Ponyo blows The Little Mermaid and Finding Nemo out of the water.
The film brings a bleakly comic sensibility—as well as an insider’s perspective—to 60 turbulent years of Israeli-Palestinian conflict.
A riot of heavy glances and portentous imagery, a near constant chorus of brooding strings and, in its latter, terminal stages, an excruciating program of narrative elongation that verges on the absurd.