Even though the subtext about the past and modernity constantly being at odds is intriguing, the director presents this in a clunky, almost didactic fashion.
As the film is focused solely through the lens of the titular characters’ cameras, this limits the exploration of the story’s worldview outside of Hank and Asha’s perspective.
The material and resources are certainly substantial, but the filmmakers clumsily weave separate stories together without detailing anything beyond a tangential relation.
Daniel Patrick Carbone’s pensive style is interested in revealing a world in flux, but his fixation on death is so incessant that it situates the film as a morose fetish object.
The anxieties and excitement over starting anew is put in a cringe-inducing spotlight in Harold Lloyd’s mesmerizing The Freshman.
The new picture quality makes George Washington, David Gordon Green’s first and best film, look as if it came directly from myth.
It borders on parody as it tries to portray its hero as martyrdom-bound genius, which makes the film feel as if it was made by Franco’s vain, art-fetishizing character from This Is the End.
The filmmakers’ very particular sense of lighting and framing, though handsome, often exudes a formality that perpetually stifles the story’s sense of spontaneity.
The audience becomes conditioned to expect the action a few moves before the film makes them, which quickly renders the story tedious.
The film may not put itself above the uninitiated, but director Mark Levinson oftentimes appears almost too eager to present his material with affectation.
The rich and deceptively radical The Front is given a justly rewarding transfer, proving that its deft handling of tone can be even more engrossing.
The film turns the miscommunication between cultures into an utterly lifeless romantic comedy best appreciated as a travel guide for first-time tourists to Paris.
This Blu-ray disc’s disappointing sound mix is still not enough to detract from the film’s gleeful mumblecore-assaulting pleasures.
The film’s tension doesn’t come from the why or how, but more from the idea that one becomes so settled into habit that seemingly nothing is capable of interfering.
As sumptuous as it is immensely shallow, the film practically revels in its attention to lush English landscapes as a means to distract from its derivative storytelling.
It isn’t until the rushed conclusion when director Patrick Creadon shows the possibilities of what the documentary could have been.
Director Blair Erickson surely has style to burn, even if he oftentimes betrays his atmospheric shorthand and gets cold feet at the most inopportune moments.
An unsettling psychological freak-out that takes cinema and the senses to its farthest extremes.
It ably captures the provocative open forums that Dawkins and Krauss conduct, but its uneven nature occasionally dulls the effect of these intellectually stimulating conversations.