Until its hasty climax, Cate Shortland’s film is rewardingly patient and psychologically cogent.
The Thomas Vinterberg film’s sentimentality is suspect, laced with an intriguing but vague strain of bitterness.
The film is broadly concerned with portraying the titular Syrian city as a community of neighbors and colleagues.
The Lovers takes some shrewd steps to update the comedy of remarriage for the age of the smartphone.
The film’s rough-hewn naturalism belies an exquisite sense of pace and a sneaky breed of gallows humor.
Director Michal Marczak’s film finds a unique vitality in its densely constructed environment.
Though the film excels at subjectivity and interiority, it tends to falter in conveying more rudimentary information.
Too much of Petr Kazda and Tomás Weinreb’s film passes by in a tone of brutalist understatement.
T2 seeks to recreate its forbear’s blend of grime, bliss, rebellion, and cynicism in a more globalized Scotland.
Argyris Papadimitropoulos struggles to lift his material out of a downbeat mode of cringe comedy.
Each of Table 19‘s faint glimmers of grace are overwhelmed by elements of general spatial and narrative incompetence.
My Life As a Zucchini circumvents bleakness with a thoroughgoing commitment to understanding and intimacy.
The finest American teen film in at least a generation, The Edge of Seventeen arrives on home video ripe for discovery as a new cult classic.
Land of Mine’s fitful jolts of suspense can’t compensate for the screenplay’s wholly familiar trajectory.
This is a film in which Christian Grey owns a pommel horse and gives no indication that he wants to have sex on it.
The Girl on the Train arrives on Blu-ray in a serviceable, if unremarkable, packaging from Universal.
Throughout, writer-directors Lisa Robinson and Annie J. Howell’s film buckles under the weight of its symbolism.
The film is bound up in a referentiality that precludes the outpourings of emotion we come to musicals for.
The majority of the film manages to circumvent the blunt allure of vaguely jingoistic “Boston Strong” patriotism.
Pablo Larraín’s film bluntly hammers home the notion that history is framed by perception rather than reality.