Federico Veiroj prefers to let Gonzalo off the hook instead of doubling down on his existential quandaries.
Raam Reddy’s sure directorial hand keeps the film from bogging down into a series of spiels about lessons learned.
One of the best films of the French New Wave, so it’s a shame that Criterion’s Blu-ray offers a flawed A/V presentation and thin supplements.
This release is Arrow Video’s symbolic demand to unlock the auteurist prescriptions of many prestige, home-video releases.
Paul Gross situates the film’s events somewhere between violent, militaristic fantasy and gentler, anti-war lament.
The film is overrun with characters, but it’s less interested in their identity than their plasticity.
We spoke to Joe about the value of personal memory, sci-fi, and the process of making his first feature shot entirely on digital.
The film is more taken by its own formal composition than enunciating the musical edification promised by its title.
Those students or cinephiles looking to trace the contemporary blockbuster’s roots should add Lang’s Woman in the Moon to their list.
Arrow Video commences a welcome Shô Kosugi renaissance with their razor-sharp Blu-ray of Pray for Death.
This Blu-ray of The Graduate is one of Criterion’s most ambitious—and comprehensive—single-disc releases.
Few films from the 1960s that have been absent on home video for this long arrive looking like they were shot yesterday.
It finds its filmmaker lost between impulses to pay homage, play it safe, or offer something—anything—new.
Three films from the Taviani brothers receive a commendable Blu-ray debut on this three-disc set from Cohen Media Group.
The film arrives on home video without a single extra from Kino in a stellar but barebones Blu-ray presentation.
Another chapter of the Chaplin home-video renaissance is complete, as The Kid makes its way onto an immaculate 4K Blu-ray.
It exists somewhere between essay film, political manifesto, and exploitation.
Mitch Dickman’s documentary neither glorifies nor castigates pot usage, letting consumers speak for themselves without the intrusion of an omnipresent voice.
Universal’s electric Blu-ray treatment for Steve Jobs could go mouse to mouse with any Hollywood studio disc from the past year.
Often neglected for its impressive use of on-location shooting, but denigrated as subpar pulp, the film receives a foxy new Blu-ray.