The Japanese auteur’s latest shows nothing more clearly than its untapped potential.
In its own way, this is as suitable a final work as a culminating magnum opus.
Foe fails to adequately redress or rework played-out tropes within its high-concept world.
Rejtman’s serio-comic fifth feature reminds us of how absurd and beautiful a mortal life can be.
Miyazaki’s film suggests that the Earth will keep spinning long after the old masters have left us.
Many of the ghosts and whispers of the past were on display at the festival’s 48th edition.
The sense of getting nowhere proves crucial to grasping le Carré in all his impish glory.
The film’s highlight is Amanda, a tempest of fully embodied desperation and psychosis.
If there was ever a time when we needed to be reminded that the art of cinema is in robust health, it’s now.
The film has an amorphous inconsistency that seems to be as much a feature as it is a bug.
Glazer’s film is about the soulless march of a careerist’s life.
The Sweet East is pretty fuzzy on what it wants its national tour of brainless dogma to mean.
The film asks us to sit on a knife’s edge, where the threat of violence is constant.
Edwards finally finds the balance between arresting images and grounded emotional stakes.
Andrew Haigh’s film always feels perched on the precipice of unlocking a deeper register.
When it’s all over, Strange Way of Life aspires to be like a victory lap for Pedro Almodóvar.
The film leans hard into the retro-future aesthetic of Batman: The Animated Series.
For Hong, In Our Day is a gesture toward recognizing the beautiful, awful, and uncanny.
Throughout the film, Frederick Wiseman offers a suggestion of how the world could work.
The characters’ generational angst humanizes the film’s view of a nation at a crossroads.
The film is more invested in making its characters likable rather than risking our sympathies.