Frat boys and KKK members will surely love it.
There’s a rough-and-tumble grace to Werner Herzog’s first fiction masterpiece.
The film ultimately has little to say about friendship other than that it’s sometimes maintained by less-than-kind motives.
The film comes across as the type of overreaching indie that’s apt to be mocked by the clerks at Kim’s Video.
Humming just beneath the film’s aesthetically serene surface is Hong Sang-soo’s belief in the importance of images and the act of seeing.
Open Season is an ideal film for small tykes still undergoing potty training.
It’s the dearly departed Princess Diana whose royal presence looms largest in the film.
Lino Brocka’s portrait of familial treachery and societal abandonment channels its melodrama through the filter of neorealism.
It drenches itself in an atmosphere of unreality positioned somewhere between waking and slumbering states.
Oh, Freddy, you’re so fine, you’re so fine….you make me wish The Dream Child had never happened.
The film is the Academy Award-baiting version of Don’t Ask, Just Tell cinema.
You’ve got to give it to the Jackass crew: Their commitment to their crass craft is awe-inspiring.
Hillcoat’s film is a conflicted elegy for a brutal past.
Jet Li’s Fearless finds the Chinese star saddling his trademark ass-kicking with didactic messages about the futility of brutality and revenge.
It’s the film’s belief in the act of remembering as essential and ongoing that remains its most enduring and poignant characteristic.
John Gulager’s gleefully gory horror movie is a far cry from inspired.
Todd Phillips seems incapable of escaping youthful educational environs.
The contest between one’s desire to flee home and the attraction to the formative people and places of one’s youth forms the crux of the film.
It pulls off the not-inconsiderable feat of tackling one of cinema’s last taboo frontiers—bestiality—with sincere sweetness.
Stick this kaleidoscopic ode to the feisty, self-empowering female spirit in your DVD player.