Bogged down by raunchy body humor, Identity Thief wastes the comedic talents of Melissa McCarthy and Jason Bateman.
Copacabana is simultaneously smarmy, sardonic, and sweet, a combination that’s occasionally scatterbrained but sufficiently entertaining.
The film is perhaps most different from the rest of Malick’s oeuvre in its straightforward narrative continuity.
Both films beautifully portray youthful exuberance in American landscapes that are changing as quickly as the films’ adolescent subjects.
Lenny Abrahamson’s film has such a portentous title that its easygoing narrative setup feels initially deceptive.
There’s a distinct vein of misanthropic defeat coursing in this film that’s encoded into empty gestures and portrayals of people who appear to only be going through the motions.
The film flirts with big ideas about adult relationships, but fails to locate any gravitas about its characters’ existential or psychological crises.
A remarkable story made almost unremarkable in the hands of lazy filmmaking.
Given the film’s garrulous multitude of characters, one wishes they would all just shut up and sing.
This is action-thriller feather preening, but all the wit in the world can’t hide the narrative sprawl that rots from within.
Malick’s beloved first film gets a somewhat light, though reverent, treatment from Criterion.
Dominik Moll never addresses Matthew Gregory Lewis’s original groundbreaking ideas in the film, nor does he rework the material for a contemporary audience.
The concluding season is a mostly redeeming finale for a show most people hate to love and love to hate.
This is an exquisite transfer of one of cinema's most beloved noirs.
Pixar’s overlooked gem arrives in a worthwhile collector’s edition bursting with features and exceptional A/V presentation.