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 Jim Jarmusch’s 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 New Wave 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.
Tamara Jenkins never musters the effort to expand the scope of her narrative, opting to make a film strikingly similar to The Savages.
It’s a quixotic and profound statement on the spatial and temporal dissonances that inform life in 21st-century China.
The Wild Pear Tree sees Nuri Bilge Ceylan in a kind of self-aware dialogue with himself about the methodologies of his work.
Hopefully the arguments against Capernaum from the more discerning jury members will be strong enough to keep Nadine Labaki’s film from taking the Palme d’Or.
It feels like Lee Chang-dong’s most reflexive comment on the dramatic possibilities of his favored narrative form.
The film registers an awareness for the narcotic qualities of cinema, particularly films that address matters of race.
Lars von Trier’s film is about the ways of responding to art without the boundaries of morality and reason.
Gaspar Noé’s relative narrative economy allows for Climax to feel like only a disappointing missed opportunity.
It’s clear that the film was conceived as an expansive homage and eulogy for the late Abbas Kiarostami.
It’s through exercising a certain kind of madness that the film connects even at its most disjointed.
Wang Bing’s colossal documentary is an incisive reappropriation of collectivist solidarity.