The ambition of Cristian Mungiu’s follow-up to his Palme d’Or-winning 4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days will not be denied.
Andrei Tarkovsky’s transfixing spiritual thriller receives the most revelatory A/V upgrade of the year.
Chockablock with instances of characters not shooting, running, attacking, or sneaking away when they can or should.
A collection of comments about winning, losing, perseverance, discipline, violence, compassion, exploitation, responsibility, and ambition.
The filmmakers profile the prolific Landis with a non-judgmental straightforwardness that allows the sheer brazenness of his scams to generate both shock and amusement.
J.C. Chandor creates an austere snapshot of human struggle, ingenuity, and perseverance, one that’s predicated on Robert Redford’s fantastic performance.
A cinematic Hallmark card about the triumph of the human spirit, it finds Ben Stiller courting Oscar-season accolades through a tale that’s all schmaltz, no substance.
Director Declan Lowney’s film operates from a conceit that affords only minor opportunities for true hilarity.
The film is a blistering portrait of rebellion against social discord, marginalization and oppression.
For a film about a killing machine who can see at night, it’s ironic that Riddick itself is, both narratively and visually, a dark, muddled mess.
Ridiculousness played with a straight face, the film is endearing even if it’s never quite hilarious.
The thrill of seeing women beat the snot out of each other is about all that the film offers, though for a lean, efficient 83-minute genre picture like this, that turns out to be just enough.
Content to faithfully hew to convention, the film rarely surprises, but its portrait of foolishness and fallibility, and its atmosphere of inevitable doom, remain sturdy and captivating.
An outrageous true-life tale that’s perfectly suited to director Michael Bay’s insanely overblown stylistic and thematic temperament.
Its depiction of finger-smashing, toenail-ripping cruelty for intense genre thrills weakens its halfhearted attempts to sincerely wrestle with the ethicality of eye-for-an-eye justice.
Rob Zombie understands horror as an aural-visual experience that should gnaw at the nerves, seep into the subconscious, and beget unshakeable nightmares.
The film elevates the story of Jackie Robinson to that of cornball legend rather than just honoring his legitimately uplifting, heroic saga by telling it straight.
Hardboiled noir play-acting doesn’t get more sluggish than in this leaden tale that blurs the line between reality and delusion in ways less intriguing than simply confusing.