A better name for Chicken Little might have been My First Spielberg Movie.
The film evokes the ’70s less palatably than it does the pervasive sexual freedom of the time.
The film is torn between its affections to the shrill Yentl and grim Boys Don’t Cry.
What would you do if a million Euro fell into your lap?
Add this black sheep to your Looney Tunes Golden Collection family.
It’s been a banner year for Tim Burton. Pity it’s also the year he made the two most unimaginative films of his career.
The film aims for the humor and political sensitivity of Catch-22 but trips and falls on its adolescent head in the process.
Bee Season’s mysticism casts an incredibly cold, literal-minded spell.
Strictly for people who see French films solely for the promise of seeing Louis Garrel flash his weiner.
North Country turns on itself like some rabid animal with its leg caught in a bear trap.
Stay is a tricked-out look at mental crisis.
Icíar Bollaín’s Goya-winning film approaches the horror of domestic abuse from a uniquely critical angle.
Get beneath Gregg Araki’s Mysterious Skin.
It’s easy to imagine a better Herbie: Fully Loaded had Grace Jones’s “Sex Drive” blared during the film’s racing sequences.
In the audio department, the film curiously gets nothing more than a mono track.
Elizabethtown is Garden State without the matching clothes and wallpaper.
The title of Peter Bate’s BBC documentary Congo: White King, Red Rubber, Black Death is nothing if not direct.
Orlando Bloom and the Brothers Scott have this week’s film and DVD market cornered.
With the tiniest, most generous of building blocks, the film says so much about the way we love and repel one another.
The film’s positive portrait of teenage femininity is honest and mature.