Doing justice to an essential film, this two-disc edition is a keeper for Mario Bava fans.
Come for McCarthy going down in flames, stay for the trenchant seeds of political media.
It’s not for nothing that de Antonio in the end locates McCarthy’s fall as the ultimate loss of audience.
Decades before Stallone in nut-hugging shorts, check out the first cliffhangers.
The White Hell of Pitz Palu sums up the romantic motifs of the genre invented by geologist-filmmaker Arnold Fanck.
Le Plaisir illustrates not merely Max Ophüls’s unparalleled sense of flow and texture, but also his proto-feminism.
Dreamer loses to Seabiscuit by a nose in the race for most inane underhorse, err, underdog crowd-pleaser in recent years.
The film is so aesthetically corrupt that it makes Michael Bay’s The Island look like a Bazinian tract by comparison.
Love hurts. Fassbinder’s often misunderstood study is magnificently excruciating.
The film’s first image sets up the template for this magnificently excruciating study of romantic degradation.
From down-home Christian horror to Disney?
Raimi’s splatter-slapstick classic gets the deluxe treatment. In Ash’s immortal words: “Groovy.”
Sam Raimi’s sequel/remake is full-on gore slapstick, more Tex Avery than Dario Argento.
Cry_Wolf bamboozles viewers in ways that outdo even the characters’ interminable hoaxes.
Jennie Livingston’s preference for feeling over exoticism secures an ultimately hopeful study of the search for personal wholeness.
Hardly a drag. Fifteen years later, Paris still burns with life.
A revealing but slender offering from a still-underrated funnyman.
Slant recently spoke with the director about Monty Python, Buñuel, the hardships of dark comedy and the elusiveness of perfection.
“The Movie of the Decade.” What else is on?
Director Peter Weir and screenwriter Andrew Niccol merely settle for purveying unthreatening, self-satisfied cleverness.