These are three enigmatic, challenging, and weird works of art by filmmakers pushing at the boundaries of the cinematic form.
It's an R-rated teen comedy that proves that you can center girls’ experiences without sacrificing grossness.
Linda Hamilton at least makes a killer impression as Sarah visits fiery justice upon Gabriel Luna’s terminator.
Throughout, the era-defining yet problem-plagued music festival astounds in large part for all the disasters that didn’t occur.
Its stylistic fluctuations are a sign of a filmmaker really wrestling with how she became the woman and artist she is today.
Guy Ritchie’s live-action remake is content to trace the original’s narrative beats with perfunctory indifference.
The way the film shuttles through its 90 minutes, it’s as if it’s been stripped of its most crucial narrative parts.
Today, IFC has released the first trailer for the film, which is set during the colonization of Australia in 1825.
Robert Eggers loosens the noose of veracity just enough to allow for so much absurdism to peek through.
This year’s selections exhibit a scope and ambition that should continue to draw adventurous filmgoers for years to come.
Kippers for breakfast, Aunt Helga? Is it St. Swithin’s Day already? No, it ain’t, dear. ‘Tis Downtown Abbey Day.
Terrence Malick’s film means to seek out souls caught in the tide of history, but which move against its current.
As a musical, Dexter Fletcher’s film is just fun enough to (mostly) distract us from its superficiality.
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.
The film is at its strongest when depicting how Diamantino becomes a tool of politicians hoping to oust Portugal from the EU.
The film is content to peddle the naïve notion that love is the panacea for all that ails you.
In the film, what starts as a subtle undercurrent of knowing humor curdles into overt self-referentiality.
The choreography is as brutal as you expect, but the repetition in style from the first two films makes the effect less surprising.