Sincerely angry about the crisis in polypharmacy, this narrative suffers from a documentarian form of A.D.D.
Lost in the music, mustaches, and furniture of the early ’70s, this docudrama of a porn star’s exploitation isn’t nearly painful enough.
This impeccably plated set is as savory as the brains sucked out of a quail’s head by Jarl Kulle’s General Löwenhielm.
The Frankensteinian rebellion of orcas against their corporate captors turns this doc into a sort of showbiz horror film.
Sensitively performed and laced with some forceful quotidian grit, Ryan Coogler’s film evades the larger questions behind a scandalous shooting death.
A rock-doc that mythologizes the tragicomic flame out of power pop’s seminal band, and the fan-made afterlife that brought them long-delayed success.
While this Hollywoodized Great Book frequently falls short, it preserves the crackling launch of a legend.
Knuckleball! is a straightforward chronicle of a pair of the sport’s dinosaurs.
What’s freshest about Radio Unnameable is how it links the birth of free-form broadcasting with the zeitgeist of 1960s counterculture.
Francine ultimately suffers from keeping its anti-heroine’s stunted emotional capacities at arm’s length.
The Eye of the Storm never suggests that the failure to make the adaptation to the screen for nearly 40 years was any kind of misfortune.
The film is a bit unwieldy in scope and in danger of being made obsolete by the next version of the RED camera.
Don’t look to The Campaign for a sustained lampoon of the U.S.A.’s lamentable governing duopoly.
Klown is content to serve up a string of contrived debasements.
The film hews closely to the mythic demands of its source, which has undergone Western adaptations by everyone from Voltaire to Stephin Merritt.
It ultimately comes off as curiously anecdotal, lacking the dramatic dynamism that could give Pagnol’s tale new life.
The film, a layered, character-driven drama with the aura of a sunny Venetian noir, never quite bursts into full-blown mayhem.
The film plods to an entirely foreseeable classical finish that squanders promise in favor of a sub-Shakespearean dead end.
This set restores a high watermark in cinematic comedy to nearly full glory.
The farce is either laid on with a trowel or reeks of sour misogyny.