The cows have it hard in Texas Rangers, a.k.a. Dude, Where’s My Cattle?
The film is an absurd, sometimes heavy-handed, but never less than evocative ode to the perpetually disguised Afghan woman.
I Am Sam is the green eggs and ham rendition of the custody-battle melodrama.
Now that Dubya’s in control, a post-9/11 Hollywood is raring to tickle the president’s cave fetish.
In the fluorescent-happy Bangkok Dangerous, Oxide and Danny Pang transform Bangkok into ready-made speed for the raver sect.
As if conceived during a Dukes of Hazzard shooting hiatus, Out Cold may be retro, but it’s sans daisy dukes.
The game of Clue never looked as good as it does in Altman’s film.
Despite Richard Eyre’s flowery direction, there’s a brave humanism at work here as Iris.
This ain’t no Friday. In fact, you’d be wasting a perfectly good high on it.
In Marc Foster’s cure-the-hate melodrama, chocolate love goes a long way in soothing frayed white-black relations.
As reductive as it is comfortably airtight, the film is a lovely romantic scruple for those weary of Woody Allen’s aging neuroses.
The film is a reductive slice and dice of six years in the life of two Sicilian brothers.
With little breathing room for emotional high-stakes, Heist is little more than pompous Mametisms on parade.
As far as feminist horror primers go, none come as fully-realized as Ginger Snaps.
Cat O’ Nine Tails begins Argento’s lifelong fascination with the grotesque close-up.
Michael Mann’s latest is a love-struck slow dance through the life of Muhammad Ali.
A Beautiful Mind is like a brick to the head to anyone who ever winced at the utterance of “infinity plus one.”
At the very least, it fashions the most delirious graphic match in movie history by cross-fading between Monica Bellucci’s left breast and a snowy hilltop.
It’s hard enough on the streets for a Latino man, let alone a mentally disabled one.
Jeff Goldblum’s performance is as convincing as the ecstasy-stoked glaze on the face of Anne Heche’s Midwest gal.