An inadequate image and audio presentation of the one of the finer horror films to ever come out of the closet.
This is one of the worst looking discs we’ve seen from a major video distributor in years.
How to explain The Decay of Fiction?
Never has a film with Luc Besson’s fingerprints on it popped so little.
Though sexy and sweet-hearted, the film is, finally, a trifle—a work-in-progress like the story’s characters.
Argentina, which has emerged as one of the most prolific national cinemas of the new millennium, dominated the Latinbeat program last year.
To suffer the allegorical death of Mr. Lazarescu is to grapple with the social injustices built into so many of our world’s healthcare systems.
A gaseous movie experience gets a solid DVD treatment.
As a polemic, Patricia Foulkrod’s documentary has the urgency of stray sniper fire.
David Leaf and John Scheinfeld’s The U.S. vs. John Lennon doesn’t strain to be topical.
The split between the story’s disparate realms is so clean it’s almost pathological.
Triad Election is equal in precision to its predecessor, exuding a perpetual sense of danger.
The film reminds us that the series exists not just as a reminder of our mortality.
Al Franken: God Spoke may or may not give Ann Coulter a headache, but 9/11: Press for Truth will give her a fucking migraine.
This smirky ask-nothing account of Bettie Page’s life won’t give anyone a rise, good or bad.
The film suggests something being held together by rusted safety pins.
Perhaps the man could stand to learn from the Last Testament and fight fire with fire.
These boots, alas, are too creaky to be used for walking.
Of use to no one, except perhaps for boys hoping to show—rather than tell—their parents they like other boys.
Not to be confused with the infinitely superior Balls Between the Legs.