Glass’s status as one of America’s most venerated and mocked highbrows matches gracefully with his peripatetic cultural and spiritual life.
The film is an ungainly and fetid but seldom dull mishmash of ’70s Eastwood, Lethal Weapon, and a high-octane Serpico.
Call it embalmed screwball.
That Stop-Loss wears its generally good intentions on its camo sleeve doesn’t keep it from being consigned to the missed-opportunity file.
The restless, mini-DV-camera-shot visual style of Lior Shamriz’s semi-improvised fiction matches the wanderlust of its twentysomething gay hero.
How dismally arch and self-satisfied can a Chelseacore sex comedy get?
The most intimate, unnerving cinema on the Iraq fiasco yet made.
The film makes an excellent case for eschewing all “news” that comes with whooshing graphics from Situation Rooms.
The anomic gloom that envelops Frownland fatally impedes its seeming aspirations to the mercurial grit of Cassavetes.
The film doesn’t persuasively put convincing flesh on people caught in the immigration firestorm.
The Other Boleyn Girl races through the events at the Tudor court like a triple-time miniseries.
This is a diverting but cool suspense puzzler whose payoff proves to be smaller and more mundane than its twisty, fluid setup.
The film’s insipid fraudulence makes its Fox-teen-TV inspirations look like touchstones of neorealism.
A moral tale that isn’t saddled with moralism, The Witnesses is a novelistic film in the best sense.
The Counterfeiters differs from the highest-profile Holocaust films by being grounded in exceptional circumstances.
Jason Hutt’s debut feature is a reminder that the boxing gym remains a multiethnic magnet for aspiring sons of the urban poor.
The film all too successful in capturing the drudgery and stasis of men caught in an entrenched wartime holding patter.
Mike Nichols navigates the nuts-and-bolts of political strategy as prosaically as he did in Primary Colors.
This video history gets its juice from a love-hate affair with the vibe of a graying boho remake of The Sunshine Boys.
65 Revisited confirms Bob Dylan as a willing confessor of the calculation in his rich mythos.