The bloated, cocksure eponymous character of Danton makes for a puzzling fictional hero, especially in light of his historicity.
Though uneven, as the ironic portrait of an intensely disillusioned stop-motion community the film singularly succeeds.
The stark melancholia of The Shaft achieves a rare authenticity.
Guest of Cindy Sherman is a fascinatingly flawed and balloon-headed study of an unlikely encounter with greatness.
The film seems more informed by low-budget History Channel programs and the proto-metal Norse lore of Led Zeppelin’s “Immigrant Song.”
Carmen and Geoffrey misses a crucial opportunity to cogently argue the significance of black diversity in the heritage of 20th-century dance.
The film possesses a poorly explored but fecund meta-analysis of juvenile semi-stardom that demands a more sensitive treatment.
This is a film that was predestined for toxicity from the moment of conception.
Andrzej Wajda’s Katyn is a Howard Zinn-esque history lesson viewed through weary subaltern eyes.
Jonas Mekas has often said that he considers himself a “filmer” rather than a “filmmaker,” but what he’s actually saying is that he’s not an editor.
Medicine for Melancholy is a french-braided triptych of progressive themes.
It’s no shock that the documentary is neither perverted in the typical sense, nor truly a cinematic guide.
The film exudes the foolhardy bluster of a talentless film student nagging at us to acknowledge his artistry.
The film is a surreptitious creation myth crafted to inspire pride in even the most diverse and elusive of ethnic identities.
The aspirations of this quirky Belgian import might be feel-good indie, but the copious flaws smack of pure Hollywood drivel.
The joys of the film lie mostly in observing the two primary actors resist the urge to exaggerate their characters’ grief.
Antarctica features enough sweat-laden sex scenes to thaw three meandering romantic dramedies.
The First Basket coast its ambitions in a thin novelty-trivia crust.
Talento de Barrio is a riches-to-riches story.