This is an unusually plot-driven episode of Hannibal that nevertheless maintains its surreal, mood-centric aura of erotic dread.
Criterion’s beautiful assemblage of all things Killers-related remains a vital packaging of several flawed, intense, historically notable noirs.
Meet Me in Montenegro is yet another movie about a failed writer with no money.
Repetition has inescapably set into this season’s Italian sojourn, which partially accounts for why last week’s superb American flashback episode felt so sharp.
A stunning new transfer of has just extended the film’s already robust shelf life.
The film is just another fantasy of living only the good portions of the life of an artist.
The filmmakers maintain a tone that’s mostly ideal for the contemporary equivalent of a drive-in movie: of reverent, parodic irreverence.
Ken Loach’s staging is so calm and sober that it turns his story into an expertly photographed yet weirdly remote rebellion tale.
Hannibal is so crushingly, daringly, beautifully lonely, exuding the same sense of idiosyncratic discovery that marked the best episodes of Twin Peaks.
Neil Marshall’s debut film is a competently mounted cult item with terrific werewolves and anonymous workmanlike action sequences.
Director David Hackl often shoots his bear in fashions that accent its lumbering, powerful grace, even during its death rattle.
Director Josh Lawsom dips his toe into the water, checking its temperature, but he doesn’t dive in.
This is all growing rather fussily symbolic, occasionally bordering on the tedious, as parallels upon parallels are affixed to the primary thread existing between the leads.
Ballers is a behind-the-scenes NFL dramedy that’s built from the spare narrative parts of Jerry Maguire and Entourage.
We spoke with Shawn about working with André Gregory, Louis Malle, and Jonathan Demme, as well as by himself.
David Gordon Green stages even fleeting tonal palate cleansers with a self-consciousness that parallels Al Pacino’s acting.
It fails to go deep enough, suggesting an appetizer offered as an opening to an ultimately unserved meal.
It alternates awkwardly between shrill, borderline misogynistic sex farce and desperately gory, pun-rife creature feature.
Three of the respective mediums’ most emotionally gratifying collisions are now available in an exquisite gift package.
“Primavera” plumbs the expressionist fugue state into which the events of last season’s finale have sent the characters of the show sometimes literally tumbling.