After a while, all you see are the gears of various sublots turning separately until they mesh together and move in unison.
Alejandro Landes’s film depicts amorality with minimal curiosity and a surplus of numbing stylistic verve.
Larry Fessenden diagnoses the rot of our era through the shifting personalities and power dynamics of solipsistic men.
The film’s masterstroke is that its fugitive antiheroes are framed by an environment that reflects their criminal lives back at them.
Waititi is incapable of dealing with the twin horrors of oppression and indoctrination beyond cheap-seats sentimentality and joke-making.
Federico Veiroj continuously underlines in red ink his protagonist’s cowardness, impulsive greediness, and lust.
In the film, the literal union of bodies is the only logical means of conveying the reestablishment of emotional bonds.
In Alma Har’el’s film, Shia LaBeouf plays an avatar of his father as an expressionistic act of self-therapy.
Rian Johnson’s film revives the comic whodunit, a la Clue, for an era of especially heightened class consciousness.
The film around Jordan plays like a lesson on justice being taught by self-aware actors.
The film falls back on a reductive rumination on the balance between maternal obligation and career aspiration.
Kôji Fukada adores stray textures that stick in the proverbial throat and free-associatively affirm his characters’ rootlessness.
It’s not hard to parallel David/Dickens’s head-spinningly intricate descriptors with Iannucci’s own prodding, poetically vulgar rhetoric.
Corneliu Porumboiu’s film is very much a genre exercise, and a particularly Soderberghian one at that.
At last, Pedro Costa appears to be more interested in how people get on with life than how they keep the company of ghosts.
The tactility of earlier Hirokazu Kore-eda imagery has been traded for a softer, more luscious, nevertheless melancholic dream world.
Kantemir Balagov depicts pain in blunt terms, but he traces the aftershocks of coping and collapse with delicate subtlety.
The film argues we’re stronger and better when we’re home, building communities that can oppress the oppressors.
Mati Diop’s film is work of disparate influences and even genres that pulses on its own oblique wavelength.
The film’s mood is one of ripe sensuality rather than pornographic exploitation.