Sleepover will do for tween girls what Max Keeble’s Big Move did for prepubescent boys: get them beat up at school.
The Incredibles may fight to save the world, but they teach us to know thyself.
Explorer of American imperialism, director Oliver Stone turns to the ancient world to examine the life of a different kind of president.
Like any good mood piece, it’s best to be in the mood for it. Now, can someone pass whatever Noi is smoking?
Can’t afford that course in Italian cinema at NYU? My Voyage to Italy is just as good, and it’s a hell of a lot cheaper.
What better way to show good old Dad that you love him (or hate him) by giving him a copy of The Barbarian Invasions.
You know what they say: Once you go black, you never go back.
“A crowd-pleasing movie treat bursting with music, dance and excitement”? Hardly.
What is the film’s Buddhist idol but a lazy MacGuffin used to excuse a last-act contrivance of soulless CGI brouhaha?
One could say that Innocence thinks so much that it ultimately has very little to say.
Turns out, Some Kind of Monster isn’t so such a “rock ‘n’ roll movie” as much as it is two hours of couple’s therapy.
Why can’t we all just get along?
Samaria isn’t so much morally ambiguous as it is an under-thought formula linking sex, youth, and violence.
Anders Thomas Jensen’s film is deceptively simple and wickedly funny.
Like Nowhere in Africa before it, Zelary is beautifully photographed but frustratingly straightforward.
There’s a certain multi-cultural conflict that distinguishes the Lewton-Tourneurs.
Edited so as to resemble an elaborate business presentation, The Corporation may be the most engaging study tool ever devised.
One can only dream that every DVD contained commentary tracks and featurettes as insightful as the ones included here.
Not only should DMX not be allowed to act but he also shouldn’t be allowed to rap on commentary tracks.
Unlike the sketchy but inspired Marci X, the misguided White Girls doesn’t seem to have anything relevant to say about race relations.