What’s the use in believing in a reality that doesn’t believe in itself?
The film is a work of Jarmuschian deadpan obsessed with modes of freedom and expression.
Somersault prettifies the ugliness of a girl’s sexual experience after she leaves her mother’s nest.
The film has blood and sweat (and laughs) to spare, but not quite enough tears.
Live-In Maid may be a bit schematic in design, but it understands both the way humiliation can eat the soul and the freedom of not having money.
It’s all very minor, but the film is wonderfully acted (especially by Judi Dench) and casts a lovely spell.
What’s revealed to us over the course of the documentary’s two hours is a horrifying vision of globalization gone terribly amuck.
The film operates under the contrived notion that old people are smart and young people are big dumb animals.
This vision of the dead sharing the same space as the living isn’t predicated on a gimmicky reduction of human faith.
You may need to be in a K-hole to remotely enjoy Bulgarian filmmaker Sophia Zornitsa’s Mila from Mars.
Assholes attracting assholes. How charming.
True to its metaphysical fixation with the art of embroidery, characters often feel like strands undone from an uncompromising human tapestry.
The resonance of Rachel Boynton’s documentary Our Brand is Crisis is flabbergasting.
Chris Wedge’s Robots more or less confirms that production studio Blue Sky is likely to be remembered as the Jan to Pixar’s Marcia and PDI’s Cindy.
For giving an ethnographical face to post-war Angola, the importance of The Hero shouldn’t be underestimated.
Mad TV fans will no what I’m talking about when I say: Viva Dorothy Lanier!
I can’t take my eyes off of you? Au contraire.
Strictly for women who complain about being treated badly by men but don’t care if they’re as cute as Jude Law.
Save yourself the trouble: Skip D.E.B.S. and rent Pootie Tang instead.
Lipstick & Dynamite is but a goodhearted puff piece unable to deliver on the promise of its loaded title.