Fantasia and especially its eager-to-please stepchild Fantasia 2000 have never looked better.
The Beginning is craven and depressing.
If Ne-Yo continues in this vein, he may accrue enough psychological chinks in the armor to truly follow in MJ’s paranoid footsteps.
Excepting the Diane Warren-penned ballad obligatorily tossed to Cher, the Burlesque soundtrack is knowingly antiquated.
Best Worst Movie is made with genuine affection.
Well, now we know why 40 of the first 50 words in “Breaking News” are simply “Michael Jackson” over and over again.
Icey Spoon’s response to Harry Powell’s snakelike jeremiads about says it all for this Criterion release.
I’m no longer Friedrich. I’m no longer 14. And I’m no longer a boy. So why does this movie continue to haunt my nightmares?
Kiur Aarma and Jaak Kilmi’s look back is both affectionate and skeptical.
The bonus features are lacking, but The Pacific looks and sounds as impressive as any Blu-ray you’re likely to see.
The hardcore version of Score stands shoulder (or dick) with screenwriter Jerry Douglas’s more notable recent works.
The album is one of the most revealing and none-too-flattering approximations of the mindset of a certain sort of adult’s Christmas spirit.
Beauty and the Beast is the movie that convinced Disney they were back in the game.
Doo-Wops & Hooligans kicks up no fuss, and shortchanges on its promise of both doo-wop and hooliganism.
The notion that the myths are more interesting than the men is borne out in Genius Within: The Inner Life of Glenn Gould.
Usher spends much of Versus claiming his turf as the godfather of sex.
With age comes immaturity.
Anderson’s songs have always undercut the typically patriarchal element of social and political clout.
We’re in this melted polar cap together, and like Deepwater Horizon, it gets more ruined by oil all the time.
Do not go gentle into that night, Don Visconti. Rage, rage against the dying of the “Lights, camera, action!” era.