Refn discusses his love of fairy tales, falling through the rabbit hole of streaming, and more.
More recommendations and recollections are welcome in the comments section.
Extract occupies that awkward, slightly icky space in the Mike Judge oeuvre between funny and miserable.
The only laughs elicited by All About Steve are those of incredulity at its blanket ineptitude.
Tarantino is offering a peculiar form of thrills, for the most part; it’s not always exciting in quite the way one expects a Tarantino film to be exciting.
A token of escape that will never come, a souvenir of a remembered past.
American Casino would seem more suited to print than to a visual medium like film.
Ed, I am daunted. Let’s get that out of the way. This is the last subject I ever expected us to cover—Quentin Tarantino.
Liverpool ponders the lure and absurdity of nests in a world of unending, faraway ports.
The film draws on a little-known historical footnote as the haunted backdrop for an otherwise tepid contemporary drama.
One of America’s best living filmmakers, Spike Lee, is also one of its most versatile.
Kore-eda seems to replicate Ozu’s post-war style and philosophy, tailoring it to a slightly more acidic, ironic temperament.
British movies are getting the shaft.
Intermittently, when the elaborate Rube Golderberg-style deaths are entertaining, as in the film’s climax on an escalator, its mindless enough to be fun.
Treading well-worn ground to diminishingly creepy returns is a bone-deep problem for Zombie’s latest.
Taking Woodstock fails to immerse us in the visceral feeling of being at the titular iconic event.
The movie has gotten attention mostly for what it says about Anna Wintour, but the editrix comes out basically unscathed, no doubt by design.
In the mid ’90s, you couldn’t escape Audrey Hepburn.
The documentary sidesteps canny directorial gestures in favor of straightforward verité footage of the life aquatic.
Funny People is unfocused and very repetitive, both overall and in individual scenes
Walden more closely resembles the written diaries of poets like Ginsberg and Kerouac than the canonized publication whose title Mekas cribbed.