No one will accuse Ian Gabriel of pushing a glossy commentary about reparations in South Africa, only a shabby melodrama.
The film is an objectionable romantic comedy from a con man who treats war as his comedic playground.
Verdict on Auschwitz isn’t a film so much as it is a discovery.
Freakitude intrigues director Isabel Coixet.
Another abysmally photographed film by the Brozen Lizard crew that both plays better and looks better on the small screen.
Director Julia Solomonoff’s more easily assimilates to America than her characters.
Yesterday I learned of Robert Altman’s death as I might have the passing of a relative: through a phone call from a friend.
To its credit, the film looks as if it was shot in more than one day, but Adam Watsein’s experiment in terror is a futile one.
The Ant Bully is most inoffensive but bland animation of the year.
This Filthy World allows John Waters to illuminate the evolution of his illustriously dirty career.
Yaji and Kita: The Midnight Pilgrims is a mashup of aesthetic sensibilities and attitudes old and new.
The disc’s intense focus on the film’s production and Brandon Routh’s transformation into Superman probably makes this a must-own for fans.
The fine music by the Sea and Cake doesn’t jive with the story’s Persona-like philosophical pretenses.
Stephens knows a lot about anal, but he knows little about making movies.
The film’s DVD cover begs one important question: Is this Lesley Nagy person the new Earl Dittman?
Go home Larry Clark.
Courtesy of Catherine Hardwicke, the Nativity has become the most boring story ever told.
Happy Feet is a film of uncanny political resonance.
No gravy or pasta fagiole? Maybe next time.
Tom Tykwer’s Perfume stinks.