Mills’s films might be called fragmentary if not for their unifying spirit of psychological inquiry.
It may not deserve it but The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning gets a delicious DVD treatment.
Judge’s nervy futuristic comedy survives studio cluelessness on its way to cult appreciation.
Konchalovsky’s 260-minute totem to the Soviet spirit is prone to poetic abstraction and exudes a magical-realist’s reverence for history.
The only thing the extras on this disc do not address is how the hype surrounding this horrible picture failed to translate into box dollars.
One of the finest Cinemascope films of recent years is presented in a mostly excellent anamorphic transfer.
A Scanner Darkly looks sweet, but it’s scarcely penetrating.
The perfect Christmas present for your best gay or that special girl-gone-wild in your life.
Those who love Chéreau should not miss this exquisite chamber drama.
Maniac Cop is only a petty misdemeanor to Uncle Sam’s gross felony.
A nutty collection of features highlight this tight Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Boby DVD.
Larry King says, “Finally, a movie worth seeing over and over again.” I say, “I barely could get through it once!”
Prince John and his thumb aren’t the only things that suck about Robin Hood.
An intense, baroque epic that just misses greatness, To the Left of the Father is still a unique film experience.
It is, as it was then, extraordinary.
DVD Review: Preston Sturges: The Filmmaker’s Collection on Universal Home Entertainment
Having almost all of Preston Sturges’s films in one set is an irresistible prospect.
Lubitsch’s comedies dig deeper, but this early drama is still an intriguing entry in the director’s evolution.
A delight for Ernst Lubitsch fans, and for anyone who thinks films from the late ’10s and early ’20s are mainly static chores.
Sumurun of the urbane Lubitsch’s most fascinating detours into exotica.
An uproarious treat for fans of Ernst Lubitsch and silent comedy.
If only the Colonel had let Elvis play Streisand’s John Norman, it might have been the camp classic that closeted Streisand freaks insist it really is.