Sony’s insistent to let fans have their webs and sling them too and the high-flying 4K Blu-ray does precisely that.
It works because of its interests in adolescent shell-shock, where paralysis and uncertainty can only be momentarily assuaged through gendered outrage.
Lock Up has little interest in actualizing its goofily violent promise.
Rich Hill is poverty porn, examining lower-class spaces with pity as its operative mode and engendering little more than a means for viewers to leave the film acknowledging its sadness.
Here, telling the difference between reality and recreation becomes not only difficult, but one of the film’s central metaphors.
Mark Jackson’s direction strips much of the agency from any character’s grasp by insisting that their dilemmas can only be revealed with stone-faced austerity.
Jeremiah was a bullfrog and the film should have stayed on ice, but the new 4K transfer from the Criterion should give fans enough reason to reunite.
Demy once said that his dream was to make 50 films belonging to the same world, with overlapping characters and reference points.
It might be summer, but your living room will rarely feel as icy cold when playing Criterion’s excellent 4K transfer.
Most disheartening is how the female leads aren’t given ample space to develop as dynamic characters beyond the most urgent confines of the script’s scenarios.
Split Screen Korea exemplifies a kind of necessary scholarly monograph that will never go out of style.
The characters, the sets, and the scenes all exist to propagate the notion that pleasure derives from repetition and remediation.
The film is little more than a revenge relic pretending that the ethical treatise of A History of Violence never happened.
Daniel Auteuil is less exercising diligent homage than indulging troglodytic cinephilia.
Katrin Gebbe’s film potentially creates a new category of offense for its multitudinous levels of dastardly nihilism masquerading as a socio-philosophical horror show.
It takes the most accessible and middlebrow route to psychologizing one of fashion’s most enduring demagogues.
Criterion’s muscular packaging of the film is the antidote to summer-blockbuster overload you’ve been looking for.
Adept as both timely character study and epochal drama, Chris Mason Johnson’s Test wonderfully manages fully formed humanism without sentimentality.
Jan Ole Gerster seems infatuated with his main character, but to little avail beyond reveling in his aimless despair.
Paramount’s Blu-ray has both brawn and brains, but as a reboot, Jack Ryan: Shadow Recruit is a largely retrograde mission.