Throughout, the era-defining yet problem-plagued music festival astounds in large part for all the disasters that didn’t occur.
The choreography is as brutal as you expect, but the repetition in style from the first two films makes the effect less surprising.
The film appears to be striving for humanistic understanding, but the end result is far too jumbled to have the proper impact.
Werner Herzog’s documentary is a rare example of the arch ironist’s capacity to be awed not by nature but by man.
Alison Klayman’s fly-on-the-wall documentary cuts Trump’s Rasputin down to size but doesn’t completely dismiss his power.
Alex Gibney’s documentary tells a dramatic, if somewhat workmanlike, story of Silicon Valley hubris meeting old-fashioned scamming.
The film is an un-aerodynamic vehicle of uncertain design, packed carelessly with origin storylets and pop-cultural flotsam.
Artistically somewhat monotonous but substantively devastating, the film doesn’t conclude with much in the way of closure.
Money corrupts, Cristina Gallego and Ciro Guerra’s would say. Easy money corrupts completely.
The film knots several strands of new-millennium despair into something that very nearly approximates greatness in its first half.
The deconstruction of corporatized play culture gets run through the sequelizer machine, with predictably acrid results.
Chris Smith’s documentary about the 2017 Fyre Festival implosion resists the urge to revel in cheap social media schadenfreude.
It’s an imagination-starved redo of The Happening crossbred with a more malevolent strain of zombie-flick DNA.
After a while, it all starts to feel like a showreel for the film’s special-effects team than an honest effort to tell a story.
The documentary is probably best viewed not as a record of the past but a document of what’s to come.
The fun but more predictable Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald moves the new series forward, but only incrementally.
The extras are sweet, but Clerks‘s low-budget ugliness is a questionable fit for Blu-ray.