Refn discusses his love of fairy tales, falling through the rabbit hole of streaming, and more.
Lumière, Le Cinéma! exalts pioneers of cinema without resorting to lazy hagiography.
Vanessa Caswill’s film feels reverse engineered to maximize emotional impact.
Phil Lord and Christopher Miller put a winningly comedic spin on Andy Weir’s 2021 novel.
This year’s best picture race is a legitimate death match between two equally appealing options.
This is a shotgun blast of a movie with no fealty to the conventions of modern gothic horror.
The film lays on chatty world-building that becomes less coherent the more of it there is.
The film basically imagines what My Fair Lady would look like if it had teeth.
The weight of symbolism eventually drags the story down and stalls the characterizations.
The film is a drug-and-dance-music-fueled party girl’s lament.
Herzog discusses the genesis of his new documentary and the urgency of his filmmaking.
Well aware of the fatigue that inevitably surrounds a series this old, the film fixates on, well, age.
The film is a grab bag of signifiers of longing and anxiety over losing loved ones.
The film is an unvarnished look at a family rendered dysfunctional by the inevitability of death.
The film offers an unflinching and deeply human account of a little girl’s final hours.
The only thing surprising about this film is what Dolly does to Seann William Scott’s mug.
Mouse’s emotional heft can creep up on the viewer unannounced.
Schanelec is content to find beauty in the bizarre and mundane.
The film shows that the German master is fiercely determined to explore new frontiers.
This “kangaroo western” is, at least, an intermittently satisfying good-versus-evil tale.
The film is a poignant portrait of the desire for queer kinship within one’s very bloodline.