For all we know, the shark in PsychoShark is perfectly sane. Ever get the feeling you’ve been cheated?
Pick this disc up just to see Balch and William Burroughs’s astonishing avant-garde short The Cut Ups.
Wes Craven’s total lack of self-control makes My Soul to Take an overdone Frankensteinian fusion of various generic parts.
Watching Secretariat is an experience as antithetical to watching an actual horse race as it gets.
Another baroque example of the tragic fatalism inherent in heist films comes fromCriss Cross, later remade by Stephen Soderbergh as The Underneath.
Dark Night of the Scarecrow is very close to the cult find many diehards have always stubbornly claimed it is.
There’s nothing more disappointing than watching a talented artist struggle to don a new creative hat that’s several sizes too large.
Bored to Death’s great comedic cast makes undistinguished material well worth holding out for.
Rodrigo Cortés puts enough genuine craft and thoughtful execution into it to make his big breakthrough a smart little B movie.
Raging Phoenix isn’t pretty, but then again, that’s why it’s a sign of the times for martial arts cinema.
It’s telling that the film’s leading man is voiced by Justin Long, the current go-to actor for awkward but well-meaning young protagonists in romantic comedies.
The instinct to beat up on Devil sight unseen is because M. Night Shyamalan’s name is now synonymous with cheap third-act twists.
Afterlife lacks tension, dread, angst, humor—you name an emotion, it’s not there.
A good litmus test for how well you can tolerate the pretension of I’m Still Here is its final scene.
Mesrine is a Don Juan and he will not be denied his pink taco.
You don’t really need to buy the complete DVD set of Flight of the Conchords as long as YouTube’s still working.
Vincent Cassel deserves better scenery to devour.
For all the respect that its cast commands, Nanny McPhee Returns is just too self-conscious to ever take off.
There are any number of reasons why Vampires Suck reeks as much as the vampire trend it’s parodying.
Bruce Beresford can’t even represent Li’s dancing with a modicum of dynamism.