Joe Nobody becomes Joe Somebody after he gives it to the man.
Lasse Hallström’s rendering of place and time is quaint and evocative even if the film, as a whole, moves at the speed of a glacial ice flow.
A film is always in trouble when it has more screenwriters than cast members.
Peter Jackson emphasizes the territorial nature of J.R.R. Tolkien’s Middle-earth by fascinatingly playing with lines of division.
The film’s lackadaisical view of market research suggests truth lies in public acceptance.
However narratively slipshod, Piñero has passion to burn.
This is the most deadpan piece of pop art this side of The Simpsons.
The visual effects fantastically morph the film’s frescos into illusory gateways into Anna’s subconscious.
Needlessly convoluted, yes, but batty sometimes in a good way:
Phenomena’s paranormal obsessions are unlike anything you’ve ever seen.
Wes Anderson’s obsession with failure becomes so tightly bound with hope that death itself becomes a vehicle to joy.
The success of Dario Argento’s masterpiece depends on the spectator’s appreciation for its rigid self-reflexivity.
The film is perhaps most remarkable for it’s unusual spiritual underpinnings and Dario Argento’s deft attention for sexual signifiers.
Dario Argento undervalues his material, but his set pieces are glorious enough that the film’s plot contrivances can be forgiven.
Ray Lawrence’s Lantana is a multi-character relationship saga disguised as a bubbling thriller.
Take Opera as the last time the great Argento was cracked himself.
Though Dario Argento is known for actively toying with camp, the film’s campiest moments seem unintential.
How High is perhaps best savored during that peak high where a Costner landscape begins to resemble a Malick existential crisis.
Mike White’s jokes are genuinely cutting, especially when boredom and drugs give way to slippery sexuality.
The cows have it hard in Texas Rangers, a.k.a. Dude, Where’s My Cattle?