Game of Thrones finally feels liberated from its own extensive mythology and now moves with thrilling fury and purpose.
That Dom is so clearly an up-to-11 caricature, embodied with reliable pizzazz by Jude Law, makes the sentimental moments feel especially false.
There’s no sense of visual artifice to match the ludicrous pitch of the script, and subsequently, the film comes off as awkward and uncertain.
The chasm that exists between being a working actress and being a household name is central to the drama.
This is a moving portrait of feminism born out of hard work and intuitiveness.
For the most part, it’s a gas, but the light touch Raymond De Felitta gives the material is at once its saving grace and its tremendous limiter.
Whatever the film’s interest may be in the marginalized, writer-director Richard Ayoade never alludes to what would even be worth fighting for in this nightmarish industrial landscape.
Even when compared to other Ford Mustang commercials, the film isn’t particularly memorable for anything other than the startling incompetence and dull sheen of the end result.
The meager comeuppance and hasty notes of sweetness that end the film feel pre-approved rather than organically realized.
Criterion brings startling clarity to every telling movement and gesticulation, even if the package is light on contextual supplements.
Robertson’s silent classic is anchored by John Barrymore’s dazzling duel role.
The drama remains appealingly off-kilter for the most part, but Me and You is not without familiar histrionics.
Professional uncertainty sparks the lithe narrative of Hong’s latest wry relationship comedy.
The look of Akiva Goldsman’s fantasy is limp, timid, and occasionally outright awkward.
The latest Blu-ray release of Murnau’s skeletal supernatural masterpiece doesn’t have much in the way of supplements.
Criterion’s transfer of Jules Dassin’s funereal noir masterpiece is as grimly dazzling as a procession of buffed-and-polished hearses.
In its second season, The Following remains trash that doesn’t even have the common courtesy to be self-consciously trashy.
The film refuses to openly engage the isolationism and hardened cynicism that’s often part and parcel of being a career police officer.
This, sadly, is the kind of kid’s movie that spends time trying to squeeze blood out of the rock that is “Gangnam Style.”
True Detective tickles a kind of hard-boiled hysteria, but it never dives headfirst into madness.