The festival’s greatest singularity is two-fold: its lack of pretense and judicious curatorial eye.
Throughout The Beekeeper, our hero’s actions remain curiously unexamined by the filmmakers.
I Heard It Through the Grapevine makes the political personal at every turn.
In the film, the embrace of storytelling through song and dance is front and center.
The Book of Clarence has an energy that’s largely missing from its influences.
Gálvez discusses why his feature-length debut always had to exist within the western genre.
Johnson’s film is effectively a light-hearted version of David Fincher’s The Game.
There’s an elegiac beauty to the film’s pool scenes, but everything that surrounds them is leaden.
Mayhem! comes to a screeching halt when it’s functioning as a narrative delivery machine.
The film hits its plot milestones as fast as humanly possible, cohesion or depth be damned.
Durkin discusses his approach to genre and the film’s thematic overlap with his prior work.
The film doesn’t bother to create a compelling world around its charming leads.
The relative grace of the action direction only underscores how disjointed the rest of the film is.
The film lacks the passion and the perspective to make the words and tunes truly resonate.
The film doesn’t break a single mold, and it doesn’t take long to realize that’s entirely the point.
The film never dares to court our revulsion at what the survivors must do to live.
The Crime Is Mine draws on the same giddily rules-trampling pre-war mood as Chicago.
Friedel discusses how the film’s unconventional shooting style informed his performance.
The film reveals itself as a prototypical yet surprisingly tender love story.
When the going gets tough, the tough double down on the audience least likely to abandon ship.
With scalpel-like precision, the film exposes the agonies of fathers, sons, and brothers.