Tension becomes Caitlin Cronenberg’s film. The release of it, not so much.
The film is simultaneously more complex and less labyrinthine than it sounds.
What Michael Almereyda sees in Eggleston’s work are the things that seem to drive Almereyda’s films: life as a continual paradox.
A bad movie is worst when you can sense the meaningful intentions of its creators.
The slapdash construction and narrative inconsistencies aren’t nearly as damaging to the film as the mediocrity of its animation.
It’s easy to imagine what My Left Foot might have looked like in the hands of a lesser director.
It’s bad from beginning to end, and like Jake, it’s totally full of itself.
Killjoy pro-monogamy pap is a minor price to pay for the gratuitously gross sight of Steve Carell peeing on his own chest and face.
Red Eye is a model of efficiency, shrouded in a veil of secrecy.
The film is a stirring affirmation of cinema’s ability to enact social change and reform.
The film is nothing but a Clear Channel shill.
Like a ghost, Bob Clark’s film is impossible to pin down.
The setup for John Singleton’s latest urban drama is pure western-movie lore.
It’s sure to play in film courses as an example of how the Guru of Independent Film sadly came to bow before the altar of the Hollywood blockbuster.
Daniel Gordon’s State of Mind is certainly an eye-opener.
It’s only a matter of time before the woman with the penis for a nose ends up penetrating the woman with the hole in her trachea.
The film’s theme is less the simplicity of religion than the religiosity of simplicity.
It almost demands to be watched with the sound turned off and set to a Philip Glass score.
Robert Aldrich’s work on Baby Jane was already a study in hysteria, and his style for Charlotte is, if anything, even more ornate.
Save for its silly doozy of an ending, it’s all very boring and ridiculous.
There’s a lot of plot surrounding the main characters, even in the non-padded, non-epic-length 94-minute cut.