It splits its time evenly between half-heartedly pretending it’s an allegory for our war on terror and pretending that it’s not.
Rob Cohen’s The Boy Next Door flips the gender switch on Fatal Attraction and calls it a day.
As juvenile and frivolous a wish-fulfillment fantasy as one might expect from the visionary behind the Princess Leia hogtied to Jabba the Hut.
The cacophony of visions, broken mirrors, and mutilations only points to the ghost in the machine respecting The Craft as its spirit animal.
It ends up cheapening its sense of empathy in its final mad rush to subject audiences to every incarnation of the jump scare imaginable.
![[Rec] 4: Apocalypse](https://cdn.shortpixel.ai/spai/q_glossy+ret_img+to_auto/www.slantmagazine.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/11/rec4.jpg)
The prior films’ scant insights into Spain’s waning Catholic belief has been replaced by fascist shows of wish-fulfillment prevarication.
See below for a list of the films that just missed making it onto our list of the best films of 2014, followed by our contributors’ individual ballots.
Moore and Stewart’s consideration of familial friction acerbated by disease nearly saves the film from its banal Lifetime-movie execution.
The film refuses to penetrate Turing’s carnality and allow Cumberbatch to truly wrestle with the torment of the man’s sexuality.
For a story so unconventional, it’s executed without director Alexandre Aja’s typical commitment to anarchic awe.
Irony is a popular pose struck throughout these shorts.
In the wake of Bobcat Goldthwait’s Wolf Creek, the film’s metaphorical ambitions are as under-realized as its story-circumscribing use of found footage.
In its fifth season, the show juggles its numerous narrative threads and their attendant thematic resonances with a striking delicacy.
The story wouldn’t be out of place on Game of Thrones, except it lacks for the HBO program’s dense and surprising dramatic reflexes.
This is a Hollywood-delivered chronicle of the immigrant experience that earns its justification through good will and tact.
No cartoon has ever conveyed the struggle for self-actualization with such an inexpressive sense of imagination as this cheap and glorified babysitter.
There’s a comic streak to the film that suggests David Fincher may understand the material as trash, but it’s the kind of affectation that only reinforces its insults.
Marion Cotillard refuses easy characterization, conveying a haunted vision of courage in the face of almost certain oblivion.
With The Guest, Adam Wingard announces himself as a conspirator of super-cool cine-pleasure.
Tusk suggests the worst possible gene splice of a Terrance and Phillip South Park episode and Fargo’s blithe condescension.