Asghar Farhadi’s film yields a tonal and emotional friction that’s simultaneously tragic, transcendent, and comic.
This is an important restoration of a neglected melodrama that deserves immediate admission into the canon of great American films.
The efforts of a slumming cast dwarfed by clichés and opportunistically scattershot class pity.
A pointed simplicity governs Michael Dudok de Wit’s The Red Turtle, one that’s typical of many survival tales.
This is a gorgeous, well-contextualized restoration of one of the greatest and most mercenary of all American comedies.
Taboo is perched somewhere between the utterly baroque, the intensely theatrical, and the routinely expositional.
The film is seemingly terrified of boring us, offering one elaborate montage of catch and release after another.
Anderson’s Heart of a Dog seems more prescient, brilliant, beautiful, and simply necessary than ever before.
A Monster Calls is both governed and straitjacketed by director J.A. Bayona’s competent impersonality.
Trollhunters blends the tropes associated with Guillermo del Toro with the anonymous tics of generic fantasy.
Danzel Washington honors the manna of Fences’s being: the micro of romantic longing, self-loathing, and nostalgia.
Gonzalo López-Gallego’s direction isn’t confident enough to allow us to ignore The Hollow Point’s contrivances.
Frank & Lola occasionally benefits from the weird energy shared between Michael Shannon and Imogen Poots.
Johnny Ma’s Old Stone is a lean, nasty entry in a subgenre that could be termed the bureaucratic noir.
Though the film strives to be galvanizing, it’s easily shaken off as an exercise in stunted necrophilia erotica.
Brando’s vastly influential psychological western is finally accorded proper respect, and allowed to let its unhinged freak flag fly.
Criterion has outfitted Anderson’s magical and career-redefining whatsit with a shimmering and gorgeously immersive transfer.
It has an artisanal intensity that prevents it from turning into a smug and predictable exercise in political revision.
The film has an eerily WTF arbitrariness that should be the domain of more films in the genre.
Arrow’s restoration is affectionately beautiful and gnarly, though you’re advised to stick with the first, vastly superior film.