You can’t call Commune bougie, which is just as the Black Bear Ranch people would like it.
A point emerges, this notion that we’re all born good, but it’s not one that gets a concerned workout.
The stink of Crash hovers over Flags of Our Fathers.
Mat Whitecross and Michael Winterbottom’s film is paved with dubious intentions.
Actors playing doctors will want to study the final shot of As the Call, So the Echo.
Body horror is piled atop more body horror, none of it with much consequence.
This disc boasts more fulsome praise for Tom Cruise than any DVD can feasibly handle without self-destructing.
David Lee Fisher’s sound remake of Robert Weine’s classic is a sincere form of flattery.
Week in, week out, Ugly Betty subjects its audience to the same recycled crisis.
51 Birch Street’s compassion for generational divides is starling.
For our information, Fernand Melgar’s Exit attempts to dispel misconceptions surrounding euthanasia.
The film is a slave to its director’s outsider-looking-in bias.
The film’s success is largely attributable to Sandra Hüller’s master class in acting.
Exiled is a flabbergasting spectacle of kaleidoscopic violence that abstractly appraises codes of masculine honor.
Though less histrionic than 21 Grams, Babel rests on the laurels of wafer-thin approximations of real people.
The film’s synthesis of fiction and documentary is smooth and compelling, especially during its climax inside Madison Square Garden.
A pity party that makes flip and calculated light of everything from sexual discovery, religion, insanity, recovery, you name it.
Given the nature of the film, the image and audio is almost too good, but the film’s laughs still resonate through the spic-and-span treatment.
Nowhere near Robert Altman’s best, but we’re still lucky to have it.
Brazilian director Maria Ramos opens a window on a criminal courtroom in Rio de Janeiro.