Refn discusses his love of fairy tales, falling through the rabbit hole of streaming, and more.
The film is a wicked, feature-length double entendre from a Doublemint era.
Articulations of genuine feelings are coded within rambling discussions about everything and nothing.
Wedding Party is a spunky freshman effort, but Brian De Palma undoubtedly felt more comfortable in the realm of the wryly sophomoric.
Crossover a pathetic imitation of an emotionally engaging, professionally made movie.
The duality between what one has/wants and what one is/desires to be proves to be a lackluster thematic spine.
Is Mission to Mars an auteurist litmus test for the Y2K generation?
Art majors can now skip over the chapter on Andy Warhol in their Introduction to Pop Art textbooks.
Let’s Scare Jessica to Death spends 90 minutes tapping lightly but incessantly on its heroine’s fragile sanity.
Xavier Beauvois’s Le Petite Lieutenant puts the procedure in procedural.
The audience shares Ed’s grief because we’ve seen this mess a good hundred times before, only never quite so concentrated.
There’s no sense of magic and danger to this bland animation.
Through Blow Out isn’t known as one of De Palma’s horror movies, of all his films, it’s the one that feels most like a nightmare.
Banned for many years in Mexico, the film filters the sexual agency and paranoia of its characters through a telenovela scrim.
Veteran. Agitator. Provocateur. Bully. Conspiracy nut. Patriot.
It’s embalmed in the kind of amber more fitting for the 1890s Vienna of The Illusionist.
Eleven years after Institute Benjamenta, the Quay Brothers return to the land of the live action.
Both filthier and funnier than Broken Lizard’s prior efforts, Beerfest is still decidedly hit-and-miss.
The shock of State of the Union is its technical sloppiness.
It’s some of the seldom-seen UFOs in Brian De Palma’s career that can dramatically alter one’s perception of his work.
It’s hard not to feel that the prospect of sex between two people has seldom looked so joyless.