In the end, the film succumbs to the tropes and emotional contrivances of the family melodrama at its core.
This disc is barebones, so Spike Lee fans will have settle for a solid transfer of the film itself when relishing this fo’ real, fo’ real shit at home.
The film quickly reveals that the only angle it’s interested in is the one that most sympathizes Gary Hart.
The film’s verité approach risks humanizing Abu Osama, but we eventually gain a complex understanding of the banality of his evil.
The documentary is a loving, albeit meandering, tribute to the 20th century’s most famous—and infamous—soprano.
The film is a second-rate airport thriller that makes The Hunt for Red October seem like nonfiction by comparison.
Johnny English Strikes Again seems almost hellbent on aiming for the lowest common denominator at every turn.
The film homes in on the ways Nadia Murad’s fragility and self-doubt arise as collateral damage from her fame and steadfast activism.
Writer-director Megan Griffiths’s film remains a clear-eyed portrait of maternal love and teenage turmoil.
That a drop from the Jaws score wouldn’t be out of place on 22 July’s soundtrack shows how tactlessly Paul Greengrass milks tragedy for titillation.
Bad Times at the El Royale begins as a cheeky chamber drama before morphing into an expectation-busting blend of noir and pitch-black comedy.
The film dwells in a murky middle ground where everything is overblown but meant to be taken at face value.
It’s a hollow tale of vengeance led by a protagonist whose mainly defined by his tendency toward martyrdom.
Life Itself revels in the shameless emotional manipulation stemming from the ham-fisted tendencies of its own maker.
Ari Gold’s The Song of Sway Lake plays like several disparate melodies overlapping one another.
A Simple Favor haphazardly vacillates between suburban satire, goofy comedy, and dark, twisted psychological thriller.
The Nun is the cinematic equivalent of a Conjuring-inspired maze at Halloween Horror Nights at Universal Studios.
The film aims only to shock, refusing to deliver anything in an intriguingly post-ironic way in the process.
Isabel Coixet’s intermittent visual flourishes do little to amplify the stakes of her low-key narrative.
Jesse Peretz’s film is loaded with inconsequential detours and questionable character psychology.