The film is a stark and stylistic hybrid of the Dardennes’ formal austerity and Terrence Malick’s lyricism.
Given the devalued state of current Hollywood kid’s pictures, Danny Boyle’s lighthearted fairy tale slightly outperforms the market.
The film is analogous to an overly long episode of Punk’d in which the moviegoing audience is the punkee.
Francis Lawrence is a skilled copycat, and his adeptness at creating a mood of otherworldly unease helps make up for his story’s familiarity.
The film’s desolate vision of city life is enough to make any aspiring crook head straight for the ‘burbs.
Jules Dassin’s London is a malevolent urban nightmare, a tangled web of disorienting murkiness and dastardly double-crosses.
It’s always a good idea to check your brakes before trucking down twisty, down-sloped hills.
The film is a bleak portrait of post-WWII despair, corrupt capitalism, and idealistic disillusionment.
Central Station screenwriter Marcos Bernstein’s directorial debut The Other Side of a Street is an enervating love story for the over-65 crowd.
Can someone please put Renny Harlin out of his misery.
Bad Guy’s Stockholm Syndrome-like love story requires an unreasonable suspension of disbelief.
But by the time Hitch offers up his unnecessary race-against-the-clock mea culpa, the film’s cupid’s arrow has already veered way off course.
Fenton Bailey and Randy Barbato’s documentary uses cheeky montages to recount Deep Throat’s unlikely path to infamy.
The film captures the chaotic psychological turmoil of a beleaguered people mired in a hopeless cycle of dismemberment and death.
It simply creates an overwhelming urge to head straight for the nearest theater door.
The Grudge, like the original Japanese incarnation, isn’t a great-looking film, but this is a great-looking DVD.
Saying Alone in the Dark is better than House of the Dead is akin to praising syphilis for not being HIV.
It’s a measure of how far hip-hop has come that Ice Cube now headlines Are We There Yet?.
Substituting titillating triumph for tragedy, this adaptation of Marvel Comics’s knife-wielding knockout comes across as hopelessly blunted.
If White Noise is to be believed, then TV’s psychic medium John Edward is no longer needed.