Eccentricities of a Blonde-Haired Girl is one of Manoel de Oliveira’s more banal inquiries into the objectification of women in life and in art.
Antichrist only becomes interesting, albeit briefly, as an act of confession.
Suggesting a half-cocked adaptation of Metropolis by Stephen Chow, the film becomes notable only for not going far enough.
Treeless Mountain is notable for its ambiguities and performances of its two young leads.
Fake or real, Full Battle Rattle just doesn’t cut it.
Jane Campion’s artistry recalls the wonky, unconventional, and dreamlike beauty of Keats’s verses but also the meticulous stitching of a hem.
At the very least, I Love You, Man warns us of the risks of telling someone to clean up their dog’s shit.
The extras provide further evidence of the links between reading trashy women’s magazines and the pursuit of plastic surgery.
It’s no Superbad, but Jesse Eisenberg and Kristen Stewart’s sterling chemistry make Adventureland worthwhile.
It’s no less meticulously engineered than Tarantino’s other pulp fictions, except this one is more linear and—gasp—humane than most.
A dizzying, camptastic explosion of pulp-realist aesthetics and performance, Julia wins Tilda Swinton another Oscar in my wildest dreams.
Awesome packaging, per usual, from Benten, but The GoodTimesKid isn’t for the faint of heart.
From the fidgety lead performances to the seemingly Ron Howard-inspired aesthetic, it’s rife with bad choices.
Give me Speed Racer instead—hell, even Wicked Stepmother.
If this release is remembered in the future, it’s for introducing a new generation to the music of Kenny Loggins.
The film is essentially a giallo fanboy’s interpretation of Emile Zola’s Thérèse Raquin, maybe even George Stevens’s A Place in the Sun.
One for the ages, Repulsion is a master class of hypnotic movie brio.
The only surprise to this by-the-numbers action thriller is that it didn’t go straight to video-and that it doesn’t star Jon Voight.
First Run Features confirms its ongoing devotion to illuminating human rights abuses worldwide.
A moving ode to loneliness and regret, chockablock with sensualist and observational grace notes.