The jokes build and resound like a good, honest fright.
The devices that José Luis Guerín uses to probe your consciousness are all cinematic: picture and sound.
Is there anything more to see, anything left to say about Blade Runner?
Peter Berg's film is a two-faced liar.
There’s not much new here, aside from Lumet’s enthusiasm and simple craft.
How desperate was Hollywood in 1970? It let Hal Ashby make The Landlord, a crazed, profane racial satire written by negroes.
Balls of Fury looks like another sports-spoof throwaway, but it does have a piercing reason for being.
The beauty of Live-In Maid is how it induces us to read these womens’ minds.
This polemic about the corrupt nexus of health insurance companies, government and the pharmaceutical industry doesn’t just expose the powerful as wanting us out of the way.
It’s all about love.
So I bought the Criterion disc of Sansho the Bailiff blind and told Keith Uhlich I would write it up.
Charlie Bartlett is basically Richie Rich Slings Dope.
Dahl casts his actors firmly in type, but doesn’t let them get away with simply rummaging through their trick bags.
Gardener of Eden has grisly fun with American vigilante mythos while paying deliriously strange, loving homage to Taxi Driver.
The trailer for Vivere piqued my interest immediately.
It's a beloved period costume drama, but in terms of visceral impact and camera movement, it’s an action flick.
In Black Snake Moan, Samuel L. Jackson bathes Christina Ricci and they don’t end up having sex.
Zhang simply tells a story itching with melodrama and socio-historical resonance in as sober and still a voice as he can muster.
This film left me with a heavy heart and a wide smile.
The litmus test for macho actors and characters in Badass movies is to imagine the badass in question sitting in on a Scared Straight session without peeing his pants.