Showtime is impossibly lightweight for TV satire.
Blade II is gooey and dank, yet del Toro recognizes the allure of the original’s techno pulse.
The Clan of the Cave Bear has nothing on Zacharias Kunuk’s Atanarjuat.
Dogtown and Z-Boys more than exposes the roots of the skateboarding boom that would become “the punk kids’ revolution.”
More tragic than the uneven mix of jokes and schlock is the brevity of Jeremy Irons’s cameo role.
While Anchor Bay’s 1.85:1 presentation may not entice die-hard purists, the disc more than does justice to Raimi’s seminal horror film.
Raimi’s film still feels like the punchiest horror flick this side of a Dario Argento giallo.
This Donnie Darko DVD is an incredibly handsome class act.
It demonstrates director Claire Denis’s signature obsession with the human body, cultural rifts and the permissions of sex.
Arguably Lynch’s most literal-minded creation, the film is also his most scatterbrained.
While Lynch did intend to pack the film’s DVD with deleted scenes, rights issues prevented him from doing so.
The too-precious All About Lily Chou-Chou retreats into an ether far more suffocating than Lily’s music.
he film simultaneously embraces and rejects the dog-whistle vaudeville of Rush Hour and the testosterone overload of Bad Boys.
Marcel Carné’s France, unlike the fiddle-dee-dee of Victor Fleming’s cotton pickin’ South, is a poetic realist’s wonderland.
Randall Wallace does great things with Native American myth yet there’s no real flair to his visual palette.
Criterion’s restoration of Carné’s masterpiece is nothing short of a humanitarian effort.
Not since Magnolia has a film been so drunk on celebrity dick as 40 Days and 40 Nights.
Like Slackers, Super Troopers, and last year’s Wet Hot American Summer, Van Wilder brings to mind the gross-out yarns of yesteryear.
Since Hardball will play better with younger audiences, the disc’s meaty extras might go unsung by their little ears.
Werner Herzog’s symphonic use of native chants compliments the evocative use of stock footage from the war.