Criterion’s release captures the icy-hot intensity and meticulous beauty of Pawlikowski’s shamelessly grandiose romance.
The album is impeccably produced but finds Kanye barely shifting his musical approach.
The hegemony of history is rigid, but Lou Ye is still able to disrupt it in the form of its representation.
With his latest, Kiyoshi Kurosawa celebrates the conquering of fear as our greatest hope against the world’s horrors.
The film’s masterstroke is that its fugitive antiheroes are framed by an environment that reflects their criminal lives back at them.
The film succeeds as a stingingly personal missive aimed squarely at Brazil’s right-wing president.
Many of the selections at this year’s festival were genre films, or, at least, exhibited notable genre-adjacent elements.
Bong Joon-ho’s excoriation of a dehumanizing social culture is mounted with dazzling formal invention.
The film is Quentin Tarantino’s magnum opus, a sweeping statement on an entire generation of American popular culture.
Robert Eggers loosens the noose of veracity just enough to allow for so much absurdism to peek through.
Terrence Malick’s film means to seek out souls caught in the tide of history, but which move against its current.
Pedro Almodóvar’s latest only occasionally captures the spry, comedic rhythms and impassioned intensity of his finest work.
Bruno Dumont seems perpetually aware of the trap of familiarity, which may be why he indulges in some of his most inscrutable filmmaking.
Bertrand Bonello’s quixotic, slow-burn genre film is political largely in the abstract.
In the film, what starts as a subtle undercurrent of knowing humor curdles into overt self-referentiality.
Abel Ferrara’s documentary excels as kind of cultural microcosm, rich in its broader implications.
Creed II is absent of both the topically political atmosphere of Rocky IV and the bravura action of Ryan Coogler’s Creed.
This disc is barebones, so Spike Lee fans will have settle for a solid transfer of the film itself when relishing this fo’ real, fo’ real shit at home.
It reveals itself as neither committed Nouvelle Vague subversion nor skillful homage, but rather a weak and uninspired imitation.
Ying Liang’s film is righteously and vigorously angry about injustices committed by the Chinese government.