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.
The film is an odd hybrid of adult child in-search-of-mother quest and lurid border-town pulp.
The film is a direct-cinema document that unfolds over the 12 days leading up to President Hosni Mubarak’s abdication of power.
The film is an earnest dark-night-of-the-soul slog whose guilt-purging destination is far too long in coming for 80 minutes.
The film is a righteously outraged study of how health-related fundraising is circumscribed by the profit motive.
This two-disc set presents a smart, jaundiced counter-myth of the ’60s.
The film recalls bloated misfires of decades past like The Witches of Eastwick and Dracula.
Jacqueline Goss’s images imbue both the forbidding landscape and her characters’ scientific aerie with a poetry of the seemingly eternal.
This death-punctuated labor comedy of hopeless resistance bellows with populist anger.
A relevant, thoughtfully assembled set of supplements enriches this crucial independent film about the Mexican American experience.
The film is an uncertainly antic case history that never achieves pathos, only shticky black farce.
Payback’s chief frustration is that at least three of its subjects are large enough for dedicated feature-length treatment.
Though this disc bereft of supplements, this silly star showcase would be described by videophile Lester March as “like brand. New.”
Guy Maddin’s passions and obsessions remain palpably close to the bone, but the overall result is as muted as in his ’90s films like Careful.
Four Lovers never moves beyond moments of erotic spectacle to become truly sexy.
On the occasion of his 86th birthday last Friday night, Jerry Lewis was in his element: water.
Terence Davies may surprise skeptics who’d see this material as a confirmation of his fustiness.
Visconti’s empathetic family opus piquantly dramatizes a hard life on the sea.
Detachment is enigmatically billed as a “Tony Kaye talkie,” but the director’s trademark shrillness renders its dialogue in all-caps hysteria.