In a backhanded way, this considered, half-fictional approach perfectly serves an artist who has always been in the process of making and remaking his own mercurial image.
As pleasant and effortless as Ramon Zürcher makes his formal persnicketiness seem, his film feels lightweight.
It creates a shared experience between the musicians, the filmmakers, and the viewer that feels sublime.
Lars von Trier’s pretenses of self-interrogation and cross-examination avail themselves as especially useful when considering his work.
Boyhood proves Richard Linklater the nonpareil of carving out small moments of resounding truth in behaviors that are, for lack of any better phrase, made up.
A highly polished docu-fiction hybrid about Nick Cave, an artist who’s all about construction, polish (dig those dapper suits), and self-invention.
It’s not just the prosaic approach the mythically outsized hallmarks of Americana that makes A.J. Edwards’s first directorial effort feel like a Malick movie.
David and Nathan Zellner’s paean to cinema, and to the kindness of strangers, curdles into miserablism.
The best credit for a film playing at the Berlinale so far goes to The Midnight After’s “Based on the novel by PIZZA.”
Michel Gondry’s squiggling animations—loaded with puns and cutesy-poo jokes—don’t really square with the subject.
A film about history that avoids it entirely. Not out of cowardice or lack of nerve, but because the head-on acknowledgement of Europe’s long 20th century is quite simply too painful.
The most miserable thing about melancholy is that it has no object.
Howard Deutch’s film is about manufactured nostalgia, bordering on revisionism, bordering on delusion.
This Blu-ray release positions the film as a definitive document of the political tumult in late-1960s America.
This Is Not a Film brilliantly marries high-modernist artistry with urgent political provocation. A masterpiece.
Beyond its wadding of auteurist interest, Crimewave is a singularly entertaining watch, a platform for its makers’ most wildly unchecked, brazenly silly, excesses.
Kim Ki-duk’s film makes an exaggerated, undeserved show of its cruelty, indignity, and aspirations of importance.
Criterion effectively (and correctly) resuscitates a cult object as a certifiable classic.
The setup and geography are consistent with the original, though the film never makes the mistake of trying to rebottle the lightning that electrified Sam Raimi’s movie.
This release will give admirers much to pore over, while arming its deterrents with more “white people problems” fodder (“My Blu-ray’s too stuffed!”).