Jem Cohen’s film finds its most salient tension in the fraught relationship between known and unknown objects.
It’s disheartening that, despite some half-hearted overtures toward shifting the comedy paradigm, the filmmakers make little attempt to expand their comedic palette.
Pythons is less dynamic than its predecessor, with fewer chord changes and less overall complexity.
IV Play is about the push and pull between artistic and commercial impulses, and The-Dream continues to balance both with amazing deftness.
There’s something inherently stultifying about this otherwise well-crafted and satisfying album.
Modern Vampires of the City charts the perils and pleasures of adulthood with impressive, singular range.
A sardonic depiction of Britain as a land where a thin veneer of strained politesse masks a throbbing heart of darkness.
Ready to Die is dumber, louder, and raunchier than any previous Stooges album.
These films have always been about the power of words, their ability to bridge gulfs of time and space, the thrill of ideas and opinions taking definitive shape.
More than anything, Alberi is about the essential significance of nature.
While it verges on exploitation of the gentle giant at its core, it’s also an effective bit of human drama, competently, and sometimes movingly, telling a story that deserves to be told.
While Atiq Rahimi’s film may peel away the many layers of its female lead like an onion, the end result is still just an onion.
The Yeah Yeah Yeahs’s latest is a messy, forceful expression of creative restlessness.
Blake continues plumbing the depths on Overgrown, an album of depressing doom ballads with a decidedly hopeful slant.
Now a 20-year-old antique slapped with a superfluous 3D transfer, Jurassic Park still has the power to amaze.
While Wolf feels like progress on some fronts, it’s also a resolutely conservative effort.
Wrong doesn’t seem to have any pretensions beyond the regimented unveiling of a parade of odd occurrences.
Depeche Mode’s Delta Machine has the satisfying air of a perfected formula.
The Strokes’ Comedown Machine a nice sense of double nostalgia.
Garrone has a sure eye for the outlandish, but the spectacles are sporadic, and the spaces between them lag.