The film’s masterful prologue writes a check that the remainder of this very long, very indulgent film labors mightily to cash.
Riders of Justice ultimately fumbles by abandoning character portraiture for pyrotechnic cliché.
Theo Anthony’s film is a playful, enraging, free-associative cine-essay that both expands and eats itself alive as it proceeds.
Cacophony eventually takes over Wrath of Man in the tradition of many Guy Ritchie films, stranding most of the actors in the process.
At its best, Oxygen successfully approximates the feel of an escape room.
Criterion has fully honored and even redefined the film’s robustly imagined, terrifying, and humorous aesthetic.
Throughout its running time, Ben Sharrock’s film seesaws between the haunting and the irritating.
In the vein of other daring ’50s-era noirs and melodramas, the film is a lyrical work eaten up with psychosexual sickness.
Chasing Ghosts somehow feels simultaneously focused and appealingly free-associational.
Criterion outfits Leigh’s extraordinarily moving Palme d’Or winner with a transfer that honors its granular intensity.
The Producers gets a sparkling new 4K transfer that blows previous home-video editions out of the water.
The film doesn’t quite cut to the heart of the socially nurtured fantasies that splinter men from women.
Writer-director Evan Spiliotopoulos barely capitalizes on the luridly sacrilegious implications of the film’s premise.
Sam Claflin is best in show, but his performance is undercut by the film’s inability to escalate or explore the ramifications of its premise.
The film offers chaos by the yard with no real stakes or emotional reverberations.
The film is both a lurid urban thriller and an earnest parable about (almost literally) walking a mile in someone else’s shoes.
A Cop Movie is a galvanizing experience, suggesting that police are also susceptible to victimization.
Even by the woeful standards of decades-too-late comedy sequels, Coming 2 America is desperate, belabored, and thin.
Hamaguchi Ryûsuke’s film is an alternately scathing, erotic, terrifying, and affirming fable of the primordial power of storytelling.
Quentin Dupieux imbues a trite genre scenario with a Kafkaesque brand of comic existentialism.