Seventeen minutes that forever changed the face of cinema, Un Chien Andalou finally makes it to DVD.
A Love Song For Bobby Long’s lead character is a dead person whose face is never seen but whose presence is very much felt.
Ignore We Don’t Live Here Anymore’s literary pretence and focus on its truly remarkable performances.
If the DVD cover is any indication, queens weren’t the only ones mortified by the Andrews/Raven duet in the film.
Here’s one for the red states.
The extras are scarce but Quentin Tarantino’s, err, Zhang Yimou’s Hero gets the video/audio treatment it finally deserves.
History is scant or purposefully blurred in Lou Ye’s abstruse Purple Butterfly, a war drama with Wongian aspirations.
The film is hot. The DVD, sadly, is not.
Next to Men With Guns, this may be the best film about a Latin American crisis directed by a white guy.
The film is not only true to the show’s zany spirit, but manages to sustain that zaniness for a whole 90 minutes.
Casshern at times evokes Dune’s intergalactic soap opera as filtered through the computer game aesthetic of Avalon.
With Born into Brothels, filmmakers Zana Briski and Ross Kauffman redefine the term “photo opportunity.”
L’Age d’Or still resonates as a recipe for cultural revolution.
Lost Embrace remains a wearisomely intellectual observation of one man’s search for identity.
The shortest Harry Potter film to date, Prisoner of Azkaban is noticeably slim in the extras department.
Truly an exercise in internal horror, the glossy Tale of Two Sisters could just as easily have been called What Lies Beneath.
This finger-wagging thriller empowers no one and punishes everyone.
Cartoons predictably grappling with issues of respect, honor, and subservience, the film’s Asian characters act and sound like throwbacks.
Common Wealth is far and away Álex de la Iglesia’s most enjoyable film to date.
In Eytan Fox’s Walk on Water, the Sea of Galilee is paved with good intentions.