The film’s form doesn’t distract from the content, and lets the characters speak for themselves.
The rage of women is always just below the surface of Coven, and one gets a sense here that it won’t stay buried for long.
Decadent prose is transformed into a decadent filmmaking style that defies modesty in the most brutal sense.
Zombies make for strange characters in a film about love, or maybe love is just a strange subject for a zombie film.
The film holds a harsh light up to our own assumptions and expectations through a process of revising what we thought we saw.
The old ways have been literally silenced, with no thought as to why they existed in the first place.
The Hunger Games succeeds by allowing us to care about who teenagers are hooking up with while also still feeling smart about it.
The film is a predictably insufferable, self-congratulatory cash cow designed to be ingested and then happily discharged without a second thought.
When ass-eating is the endgame, you’re already dealing with half a deck.
Stake Land is slick, scary, and occasionally poignant, deftly rising above the swarm of imitators.
Red Riding Hood is sort of like a hook-up that you remember more or less fondly but still would never tell your friends about.
The sheer absurdity of much of the film’s plot provides the bulk of the entertainment.
At its best, I Am Number Four is a promise that the freaks will outlast the popular kids and that the aliens among us.
It will come as no surprise that one of Straub’s literary mentors is Lorrie Moore, the wonderfully gifted fiction writer whose lonely, depressed women populate countless short story anthologies.
It hilariously chronicles the missteps and triumphs—and everything in between—of four teenage guys in their efforts to get laid for the first time.
The few mistakes occurring amid the gravity-defying craziness only served to illustrate just how beautifully close to disaster these performances always are.