Resolutely timely, it spins a series of nested mysteries around that most impenetrable of subjects: the Middle East.
One of the great teenage horror films is ushered onto Blu-ray with a sense of long overdue and decidedly fan-centric respect.
Jonathan Demme makes loving sport of the trust his actors have clearly placed in him, erecting for them a monument to the joys and terrors of walking an emotional high wire.
The film is impersonal and populated with wisps of characters who spend most of the running time wandering around in the dark yelling at one another.
The book takes a subtle stylistic turn in its second half that might bear quasi-meta significance.
Criterion honors Cronenberg’s exhilaratingly cynical film with a bold new transfer that hints at previously unseen new emotional dimensions.
The film’s audience may feel as if they’ve inadvertently booked a trip with no destination.
The Strain knows it’s a fantasy, and embraces poetic hyperbole in an aesthetic fashion similar to the more sophisticated Hannibal.
Nicholson wears her erudition lightly, her swift, pared prose allowing the resonances of Cruise’s career to sneak up on you.
Aarón Fernández captures one of the most heartening elements of sex: that it doesn’t always oblige our rules or expectations.
An inept trifle, Pascal Chaumeil’s film reduces Nick Hornby’s novel of the same name to a series of smug self-help gestures.
Shout!’s release does right by this ambiguous war allegory.
Barebones, yes, but a sturdy home-video transfer of Ophüls’s savage, fascinating, and previously obscure film is major.
There’s a sense throughout of director Steve James rushing and dutifully covering all his bases to evade accusations of creating a puff piece.
It’s another stultifying example of pop culture’s determination to elevate potentially serviceable pulp to the realm of capital-A art.
Those sync with the film’s politics may still blanch at how snugly their interests are courted.
This release is almost certainly a placeholder for a more illuminative future Criterion edition.
Joanna Hogg’s film is an often disarming mixture of the remarkable and the banal.
Joe is a fascinating, irresolvable mixture of tender, despairing blue-collar pathos, found faces, and macho genre hot air.
This unusually optimistic, and unsatisfying, Huston film receives competent, not especially memorable treatment from Twilight Time.