Bernardo Bertolucci’s film is a living, fluid organism that spans the distances between several poles of extremity.
The Criterion Collection honors the ghostly delicacy of a new classic of American loneliness.
The too-dark lensing is an ideal match for Woody Allen’s sequences of marital and amorous discord.
You can experience the festival from beginning to end without leaving the island of Zamalek.
We ranked the films of the Dutch director, satirist of American excess and fascist ideals, from worst to best.
The threat of feeling slighted links every small and large ripple of drama in Kelly Reichardt’s film.
The festival’s triumph was Harmonia, a culture-hopping orchestra melodrama of paradoxically modest tone.
This disc’s picture and sound presentations are aces. You’ll want the lights down low for this one.
The Criterion Collection’s heavyweight disc is a major release for the label that may pass through the market square without much fanfare.
The premise of the film is simple, but it’s a simplicity that can only attract complications, as simple plans are apt to do, in an atmosphere of foreboding and the macabre.
This ranking will endeavor to adhere to a rough calculus, weighing the complex pleasures from one episode of our favorite show of 2015 to the next.
Writer-director David O. Russell proposes that there may be no real barrier between the caustic worldview he wears and the sense of childlike wonder he sells.
What pushes the film, at long last, into the icy river, is its very design, as a monument to slick, mercenary grandeur.
The filmmaker discusses cinephilia, cinema technique, and the deceptive simplicity of Carol’s romantic pas de deux.
Code Unknown will stress you out, but it won’t leave you in a fetal position. Compared to most of his filmography, this is “happy Haneke.”
Frederick Wiseman’s documentary grasps the powerful distinction between a neighborhood and a community.
To hear him speak about his process and his professionalism, you wouldn’t think he’d skipped a beat since Flight of the Red Balloon.
In order to make the walk, and in order for it to matter to him, Philippe Petit has to comprehend it as real and impossible. Robert Zemeckis teaches us the same lesson.
It goes in for the idea of texture, tics, and human behavior, but there’s no conviction, and no real push for eccentricity.
Whit Stillman’s “urban haute bourgeoisie” are redeemed because the filmmaker takes custody of them, their idiosyncrasies, their flaws.