The Japanese auteur’s latest shows nothing more clearly than its untapped potential.
The only amusing thing about License to Wed is the idea that it’s supposed to be funny in the first place.
Magic Soapbox does more than simply unscramble the Bronner’s Magic Soaps blue-and-white label for the skeptical consumer.
Over the GW is appropriately troubling in its evocation of humanity’s penchant for self-destruction.
Talk to Me more or less admits that its aim is to deliver not a warts-and-all life story but a lionizing memorial.
For all its reliable, over-the-top action, the Die Hard franchise’s success has always been predicated on its jokey self-deprecation.
Steadfast tradition and encroaching progress lock horns in the surprisingly cheerful Hula Girls.
Drama/Mex is the best film that Alejandro González Iñárritu never made.
This polemic about the corrupt nexus of health insurance companies, government and the pharmaceutical industry doesn’t just expose the powerful as wanting us out of the way.
As always, Pixar’s technological invention remains peerless, both for its stunning detail as well as its inventive flair.
Few critics appreciate, let alone care to understand, the horror genre, past or present.
It’s all about love.
Throughout, you may wonder if Julie Delpy isn’t unconsciously working through some residual, latent anger at Ethan Hawke.
You will not see another film this year made with so little ambition.
Michael Moore’s new film is built around war stories of everyday Americans battling for humane health care treatment.
Watch Kevin B. Lee’s video essay on Inferno by Dario Argento, #926 on this Shooting Down Pictures project .
The film’s milquetoast banality isn’t, ultimately, Steve Carell’s fault.
Dice it any way you want, this material was, is, and will always be pretty cheap.
Evening’s pseudo-intellectual tone hardly disguises its presumptions about female identity.
In Between Days is the most intriguingly circumscribed romance of the year.
Readers, rev your engines.