Colony essentially approaches Train to Busan’s setup from a 90-degree angle.
Few modern films so intensely refuse to stick to the medium’s established spatial and temporal principles.
It explores with unpretentious candor how a young girl’s sexual agency rebukes an older generation’s notions of right and wrong.
New Orleans keeps tugging at David Redmond’s conscience.
I Know Who Killed Me at times suggests a hack’s attempt at a Lynch film.
Who’s Your Caddy? is a fiasco that never met a crass stereotype it didn’t milk for lowest-common-denominator laughs.
Will another film this year elicit such an elevated level of recoil?
The film’s most unique quality is how it offers the chance to see how the series’s brand of humor goes over with a big audience.
It may not be the best…movie…ever, but it’s the best…Simpsons…movie…so far.
Naming Number Two peddles familial reconciliation while making one pine for familial annihilation.
Even in this, his first feature, we see that Andrei Tarkovsky is compelled by memories of precious things.
The film profoundly connects a family’s heartache to the tears in a country’s social fabric.
That’s Dancing! understands that dance on film is all about the sexy things the human body can do.
Bong risks an ending here that even something as great as Jaws would not dare.
A self-styled intellectual, Lorre had a quick, morbid wit.
Rescurrecting the Champ is a snooze, but at least it’s an honest one.
Shane Meadows’s affectionate warts-and-all portrait of his milieu and subculture is blistering.
10:30 P.M. Summer is ludicrous enough to merit inclusion in the recent Cult Camp Classics DVD collection.
For Majid Majidi, everything must mean something, and his new film gives all sorts of connotations to ants, sticks, walnuts, and snow.
No Reservations is a cinematic culinary treat for those without a discerning palate.
The beauty of Live-In Maid is how it induces us to read these womens’ minds.