This relentlessly cruel rejiggering makes every Evil Dead film before seem like Sunday school.
Only Uwe Boll would assume that the moviegoing public craved a trashy Lord of the Rings rip-off starring Burt Reynolds and Matthew Lillard.
The film is a depressingly tame, bland, fun-free slog.
Poised as a gritty study in urban loneliness, Lost in Beijing instead becomes lost in clichés.
An Affair to Remember deserves better than to be the receptor of Meg Ryan’s crocodile tears.
The film is pitched somewhere between a music appreciation class and a modernist experiment attesting to art’s ability to ennoble the quotidian.
The film is a hallmark of what is still one of cinema’s most endearing movements.
The Coen brothers, Paul Thomas Anderson, and, arguably, Julian Schnabel are all pretty close to locks.
They doubted me, but then they saw, and then they believed.
What does Woody Allen believe in?
The film makes an impassioned, angry case against the practice of torture that has become commonplace in interrogations post-9/11.
At this writing, Last Year At Marienbad’s place in cinematic history seems an uncertain one, and understandably so.
The film is a could-have-been camp classic, the tragic victim of an inability to revel in its own sense of humor.
This is the only one of the four acting categories that seems to have a lot of play left to work with.
There is no category this year whose lineup—and winner—is closest to being set in stone than supporting actor.
The film doesn’t make its individual moments coalesce into something more than just a loud, frantic, hollow gimmick.
In Gondry’s estimation, we’re defined by our dreams, our art and our histories.
Ruby Dee may be the only one that generates honest goodwill with a titanic slap worthy of the category’s “season vet” slot.
Suddenly, the Oscar race is being headlined by a pair of uncompromising, boldly conceived pieces of formalism.
Fleshy, often blowsy, and intrinsically good-humored, Joan Blondell was a Warner Bros. dame of all trades.
The film proves that Hollywood doesn’t have a monopoly on ponderous, ersatz-thoughtful war dramas.