In appealing to the antagonist’s humanity, Peter Park finally gets to fully demonstrate his own.
Its dopey, privileged-set fantasy winds up as obvious as crawling through Keanu Reeves’s open window.
The set pieces largely convey the same feelings as the novel’s, but screenwriter Joe Penhall’s adaptation has a patronizing way of spelling out their significance.
Planet 51 never soars to the boundless heights, and skies, that its animation so fantastically illustrates.
The film was a singularly three-dimensional teen romance after a decade of broad gags and breakfast-club stereotypes in John Hughesland.
Parents: If I can (poorly) discipline a 16-year-old cat to not howl before sunrise, you can teach your kids to not emulate Bella Swan.
The movie’s title could easily refer to an audience unaware of its prejudices.
That few people seem willing to demand more from criticism is part of why our craft is in freefall.
Nick Hornby does not just balance the two main characters, but all the supporting ones as well.
Cornillac’s a veritable cretaceous martyr, man. Why can’t I look away?
For all its problems, Chasing Amy remains for me the relative high point of Smith’s career.
Ti West’s film is so firmly rooted in suspense that even Hitchcock would be alternately proud and jealous.
Has an auteur ever turned on his characters and the worldview they triumph as sharply and definitively as Lukas Moodysson?
It shares with the Abel Ferrara film a bottomless compassion for its crazies.
Admirable as it is in its refusal of easy excitement, the film’s insistent ennui can also be a humorless drag.
Teems discusses the intricacies of That Evening Sun’s characters and the difficulties of raising money for a small, character-driven film.
Defamation offers an unprecedentedly raw portrait of the self-destructing political discussion surrounding Jewish discrimination.
The wannabe-Strung aesthetics reveal the project’s underlying style-over-substance concerns.
The film dissolves into an amorphous, uncertain haze out of which, finally, it can’t see its way out.
The film’s shortcomings have less to do with John Woo’s direction and more to do with the Frankenstein hatchet job enacted against it.
Staten Island has the stench of meat left on the counter for too long.