Refn discusses his love of fairy tales, falling through the rabbit hole of streaming, and more.
Richard Linklater isn’t adept at seeing multiple narratives through to their various plausible conclusions.
This is a story of returns, just as the title tells us, but its chief subject is feminine (and provincial) rites, rituals and customs.
The Museum of the Moving Image’s complete Jacques Rivette retrospective moves into its third week with screenings of three more recent features.
Regardless of topicality, there’s no ignoring the staleness of Days of Glory’s pervasive clichés.
The boys used to clown like they had nothing to lose. Now they’re protecting an investment.
Yesterday I learned of Robert Altman’s death as I might have the passing of a relative: through a phone call from a friend.
And so we face another imponderable with the news that director Robert Altman has passed away at age 81.
It radiates not the nostalgic sentimentality of Almost Famous but raw, pathetic, obsessive desperation.
The funny thing about this Bond series is that they’re always trend-chasing and they’re typically a year or two too late.
“Reboot” is the word reviewers have been using to describe the latest Bond film, and it’s hard to avoid because that’s what Casino Royale is.
Iraq in Fragments is the first camcorder movie with no excuses.
To its credit, the film looks as if it was shot in more than one day, but Adam Watsein’s experiment in terror is a futile one.
Nothing says Christmas quite like incompetent slapstick, saccharine sermonizing, and cavernous cleavage.
Tony Scott doesn’t even wait for Déjà Vu to properly begin before employing the spastic visual stylings that are his calling card.
Sweet themes are shoddily executed in Opal Dream.
With Turistas, John Stockwell cements his status as contemporary Hollywood’s most accomplished exhibitor of the female behind.
This Filthy World allows John Waters to illuminate the evolution of his illustriously dirty career.
Jacques Rivette’s Paris Belongs to Us is technically the inaugural feature of the French New Wave.
The film is a comedy of tremendous miscalculation that doesn’t even have the conviction of its own stupidity.
The title sequence acts as a decompression chamber.