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.
From a purely suspenseful vantage point, Big Bad Wolves is an efficient and effective beast.
This monotonous film proves to be just a stale R-rated sitcom.
Zombie understands horror as an aural-visual experience that should gnaw at the nerves.
The film elevates the story of Jackie Robinson to that of cornball legend rather than just honoring his uplifting, heroic saga by telling it straight.
Hardboiled noir play-acting doesn’t get more sluggish than in David Jacobson’s film.
Die Welt manages to blend fiction and nonfiction with seamless grace.
When focused most squarely on Anton’s alternately joyful and distant boyish countenance, Anton’s Right Here can be wrenching.
Tobias Lindholm’s hostage-negotiation drama wields its verité
style for maximum tension.
Makinov’s film expertly crafts a sense of dawning madness that hinges on its villains’ unspoken fury at their elders.
The film is a wannabe French-style infidelity farce that keeps indulging in unnecessary bathos and subplots.
Information overload and an overeager desire to associate its story with more recent economic developments are the only things that hamper Genius on Hold.