Refn discusses his love of fairy tales, falling through the rabbit hole of streaming, and more.
Blood Tea and Red String’s greatest innovation is a castle’s fountain water.
Todd Phillips seems incapable of escaping youthful educational environs.
Hell, the mood was so sedate that Sean Penn and Russell Crowe were even chipper, the latter happily chatting up fans in the street.
Tickets offers a triptych of slender yet genuine delights.
The Girls is a confused feminist manifesto, but it’s at least never boring.
The film is a standard product fresh off the assembly line, so polished and fine-tuned that the opening and closing credits are but a formality.
When Grease gets remade two decades from now, it will be a Target commercial. And we’ll all be fat.
The contest between one’s desire to flee home and the attraction to the formative people and places of one’s youth forms the crux of the film.
Zerophiliacs do not exist, but the conviction and daring of this feature-film debut by Martin Curland inspires belief in the impossible.
The film is a sham that no amount of droopy-dog posturing by James Franco can alleviate.
It pulls off the not-inconsiderable feat of tackling one of cinema’s last taboo frontiers—bestiality—with sincere sweetness.
De Palma translates Ellroy’s dick-swinging dialectics into his own, decidedly more sensitive aesthetic.
As if Hollywood films needed any outside help to celebrate arrested narcissism, along comes The Last Kiss.
Fabián Bielinsky is a filmmaker for whom concerns for aesthetic panache trump acute thematic inquisition.
Broken Bridges soft-pedals tired tripe about redemption, reconciliation, and finding solace in the bottle.
This is a unique audio-video sensory experience, most striking in the exactness of its aloofness and monotony.
They’re Just My Friends is the type of disastrous creation even a mother would have trouble loving.
The gothic-printed message of the title card forecasts the film’s ether-ness, which crests over us like the veil of the cinema’s original corpse bride.
Reds is finally just an appealingly conventional epic movie-star romance with radical trimmings.
Recidivism is the name of Gridiron Gang’s game.