Kids won’t get Surf’s Up, and adults may smell a con.
Volker Schlöndorff’s latest tries to cop a feel from Siberiade, Andrei Konchalovsky’s behemothic totem to the Soviet spirit.
Olivier Meyrou may keep his distance from his subjects, but staying out of their way doesn’t mean losing sight of their troubles.
The film will make pro-choicers think differently about people who actively work to stop abortion from happening.
The film believes to the bottom of its execrable core that single mothers should go the way of the dodo bird.
The Method suggests Glengarry Glenn Ross with its teeth knocked out by Tony Soprano and nursed back to health by Mark Burnett.
Breach confirms that Ray isn’t a great visualist but an impressive actor’s director.
With Bug, William Friedkin uses light, color, and sound to evoke subjective experience.
An origin story that, sadly, has less in common with Jonathan Demme’s Silence of the Lambs than it does with Hannibal and Red Dragon.
Like Spider-Man 3, Shrek the Third is an experiment in excess.
Word of advice to Madonna: Work with notoriously bratty directors more often.
A total freak show-proof of Mel Gibson’s undeniable talent as a filmmaker and complete and total lunacy as a human being.
The only thing easy about geopolitics is its definition.
Joachim Lafosse’s Private Property might be considered a companion piece to L’Enfant.
Leon Ichaso’s El Cantante blows its load early.
The film trembles in the shadow of Letters from Iwo Jima but the quality of its image and sound elements is almost unrivaled.
The Fountain is an acquired taste I don’t really care to acquire. The soundtrack, though, is a different story.
An average romantic comedy emboldened by a great Drew Barrymore performance.
The pitch meeting must have been frightening: Caché for fans of Chocolat.
Had Lucky You reached theaters two years ago, Curtis Hanson would have been accused of shamelessly jumping on the celebrity-poker bandwagon.