No Austen adaptation, even the most revisionist ones, has ever felt as vicious as Love & Friendship.
This entrancing magnum opus is one of the singular works of the decade to date, and Kino’s excellent Blu-ray belongs in any cinephile’s collection.
Cutter’s Way belongs on the shelf of fans of both Cassavetian hyperreal melodrama and Pakula-esque political thrillers.
The fun of the action scenes exacerbates the failure of the narrative to adequately contend with its own themes.
The overriding despair of Winter’s War’s imagery calls into question who, exactly, the film is for.
It has all the charm of the best entries in the Star Wars series, and it arrives on a pristine Blu-ray primed to delight the next generation of fans.
Held up for years, Criterion’s home-video release of Edward Yang’s four-hour masterpiece makes up for the wait with a superlative A/V transfer.
Frankenheimer’s masterpiece gets a sparkling new transfer that brings out the most of its skewed interiors and domestic horror.
Agnès Varda’s 1988 features are two of her most evocative, and provocative, films.
John Hillcoat’s film arrives prepackaged with suggested comparisons to Michael Mann’s Heat that it never earns because of its dreary literal-mindedness.
This wry variation on Eric Rohmer’s style of romantic comedy is a must-own release, even if the Blu-ray is slightly marred by an unrestored negative.
Nagisa Oshima’s satire on capital punishment and its racist application has lost none of its relevance.
The film is frequently guilty of the same obsolescence it accuses the characters of embodying.
Jean Renoir’s most well-known American feature is a fascinating translation of the filmmaker’s methods and outlook into a Hollywood milieu.
Guillermo del Toro’s lavish, tragic romance is his most personal film to date, and this gorgeous Blu-ray reflects its exacting perfectionism.
Joel and Ethan Coen’s idiosyncrasies elevate Hail, Caesar! above the level of a mere creative exercise.
Its veneer of abstract dispassion gradually reveals a heartfelt alternate history that lives up to the genre’s notions of nobility.
Despite the poor quality of the A/V transfers, Olive Films is doing a public service by collecting John Huston’s war documentaries on home video.
Beautifully restored with new 2K transfers, Toshiya Fujita’s grindhouse classics look more than ever like the idiosyncratic, personal projects that they are.
There’s something to be said for Michael Bay’s turn to less expensive films after crafting quarter-billion-dollar toy commercials for the better part of a decade.