Clewes’s seedy ambition is the key, and it makes No Orchids for Miss Blandish an exceptional B noir.
Agora is an innocuous epic, a pointless spectacle that champions free-thinking intellectuals over violent zealots.
An eyesore on the big screen, Valentine’s Day is now close to one on your TV. Go read The Sound and the Fury instead.
Actor turned director Michael Stephenson’s Best Worst Movie is the populist doc to beat this year.
Lang’s film is a monumental achievement about monumental egos.
This time, as opposed to all the other times, it’s personal.
om Six’s The Human Centipede (First Sequence) is nothing short of an inspired bit of modern exploitation cinema.
This adaptation is striking for the way that it both softens the edges of and preserves the problematic acidity of August Strindberg’s play.
It has enough flickers of brilliance to make it essential viewing for fans of its cast, Lumet, and/or Tennessee Williams.
Sylvain White’s adaptation of The Losers is the second comic-book movie misfire of 2010 and hopefully the last.
A great gateway for fans of Milos Forman’s later films, Loves of a Blonde is subtle, silly, and even poignant in its own way.
Review: Maitland McDonagh’s Broken Mirrors/Broken Minds: The Dark Dreams of Dario Argento
McDonagh goes to town pointing out the many ways that one can appreciate and even find meaning in Argento’s fragmented images.
Rainer Werner Fassbinder’s sumptuous 205-minute epic is intriguing as a prototype for later and more palatably cynical sci-fi standards.
To say that Kim Jee-woon’s film is problematic would be a vast understatement.
Completely alienating, Yakuza Justice: Erotic Code of Honor accomplishes what it sets out to.
A film with the title Hot Tub Time Machine has no right to be as dull as the one that just came out.
Two Gentlemen of Lebowski frustratingly smirks at the concept of removing the Coens’ film from its context.
Repo Men’s dearth of sustainable charisma, warmth, and energy begins with its leading male.
Atrocious, yes, but you can’t say the pandering New Moon doesn’t understand the hormonal impulses of its target audience.
At least Melville was smart enough to focus on showing the “army of shadows” sweat while they waited for the other shoe to drop.