The Air I Breathe is a breathtakingly bad Altman rip-off that seems like a wholly unintentional parody of multi-narrative films.
The villain may be Untraceable, but it’s easy to pin down the influences of Gregory Hoblit’s serial killer snoozer.
In an about-face after Man Push Cart, Ramin Bahrani tends more to his story’s neorealist particulars than to exploiting its symbolic potential.
The film quickly turns into a propaganda piece for midwifery before closing on a fortuitously complex note.
It would seem that David E. Talbert has been keeping close tabs on the creative recipe for success concocted by Tyler Perry.
27 Dresses is ultimately nothing more than a slightly above-average rom-com whose gears and wheels turn with predictable precision.
A superior two-disc set for Zodiac aficionados desperate to drown themselves in even more facts, figures, and conjecture.
Eric Valette’s even lousier American remake is something like the next generation of suck.
It’s designed to emulate the effect of an amusement park ride, providing a few cheap, fleeting thrills by jostling us about with disorienting speed.
There are many good actresses unsuited for romantic comedies, and Hilary Swank, despite her considerable talents, is one of them.
It was a blast from the past that incited the most ardent critical passion: Killer of Sheep.
The film eloquently illustrates that, once granted, even a smidgen of freedom can transform into an unstoppable weapon against oppression.
The film is a haunting whodunit, a glimpse inside a nasty, ruthless artistic environment, and an example of the limits of nonfiction biography.
In the end, the decision to make the dark seekers wholly computer-generated proves ill-advised.
It’s ultimately Jonny Greenwood’s score that gives There Will Be Blood its throbbing, pulsating soul.
The Unknown Woman begins the same way director Giuseppe Tornatore’s last film, Malena, operated throughout: by ogling a fine female form.
Paul Schrader blends lethargic self-referentiality with anemic political jabs in The Walker.
At the very least, Adam Rifkin has some fun with his voyeuristic peeping-tom scenario.
Without unpredictability or the possibility of an unhappy ending, how can a film truly inspire?
With his latest, Raymond De Felitta makes amends for 2005’s intolerable The Thing About My Folks.