Refn discusses his love of fairy tales, falling through the rabbit hole of streaming, and more.
The film’s segregated world hints at a town’s (and country’s) racial tensions without actually examining them.
Peter Landesman’s film is a kind of hagiography, and it leans toward whitewashing its subject’s legacy.
Films from two of our most prolific auteurs will open and close NYFF this year, but more noteworthy are the eight films in the main slate made my women.
Before We Vanish’s beauty, its poignancy, comes from its relationship to Kiyoshi Kurosawa’s other work.
Lover for a Day is yet another of Phillippe Garrel’s densely anecdotal studies of romantic fidelity.
It fulfills the vague sense of its aspirational title as a film led only by the guidance of its maker’s skeptical positivity.
The film ends up as a cri de cœur against our current system of industrialized food production and distribution.
One teen’s transformation into a serial killer isn’t credible compared to the portrait of idle suburban adolescence.
John Carroll Lynch’s Lucky is an impeccably acted yet sentimental film that’s bashful about said sentimentality.
Alain Gomis never reconciles throughout how the film’s disparate parts are meant to fit together.
Mike Flanagan’s Gerald’s Game is the rare Stephen King adaptation to be undone by the story itself.
Thelma’s transition into a paranormal thriller doesn’t complicate its initially potent character study.
Throughout the festival, audiences were occupied with the distinctions between fiction and reality.
Loving Vincent is driven by an off-putting and oxymoronic fusion of reverence and egotism.
Director David Gordon Green’s Stronger offers up an unassuming portrait of wounded love and solitude.
The influence of Akira Kurosawa is very much evident in the ornate clip from Wes Anderson’s new film.
Gaga: Five Foot Two lacks the momentum and artistic intent that the best musician-centered documentaries all share.
It’s the obnoxious equivalent of trying to have a serious conversation with people who are high out of their minds.
It predictably utilizes Facebook to superficially spit-shine another wanly Americanized J-horror retread.
Its cumulative effect is utter exhaustion, the cinematic equivalent of chasing a toddler through a toy store.