Mike Leigh’s kitchen-sink melodramas may detail the lives of the Brit lower class, but they resonate on a universal level.
The only thing worse than a bad lowbrow comedy is a bad middlebrow Britcom.
Roger Michell’s direction can only be described as bourgeois.
Though not as personal as his Black and White, James Toback’s When Will I Be Loved is every bit as visually curt.
Milky Way is intelligent but pretentious, sardonic but callous.
Dolls merely plays out like a work of hegemonic reinforcement.
The Rock’s core fan base may have a problem adding the film to their permanent collection.
Manhattanites will especially enjoy Jarmusch’s latest, which takes us back to the days when you used to be able to smoke indoors.
Twin Sisters is a mess of forced equations and soapy hysteria.
Hijacking Catastrophe is a wake-up call.
The film’s little Bible stories are twisted evocations of the dumbing down of faith by Christian anxieties and hang-ups.
The River and Death may be the closest thing to a contract job in Luis Buñuel’s entire canon.
Quiet and unpretentious, the film’s humanism isn’t confrontational exactly but it’s intense nonetheless.
Those who got a kick out of seeing Shaggy with big breasts may want to head straight to the “Dancing Dog” feature.
Now it’s time to say goodbye…Disney closes the doors to its animation studio with the beautifully drawn but lousy Home on the Range.
the film is the more aesthetically and politically astringent but less heartfelt cousin to Luis Buñuel’s Mexican Bus Ride.
The film is—to quote the great Brittany Murphy—“music to cut your wrists” to.
Does anyone else agree with me that Lindsay Lohan is much easier on the eyes and ears than that “fugly skank” Hilary Duff?
Twisted is a thriller only a misogynist could love.
It looks great (thanks to Vilmos Zsigmond), but can hardly muster a single laugh.