Refn discusses his love of fairy tales, falling through the rabbit hole of streaming, and more.
Frank Borzage can be forgiven in thinking that a world that included someone like Margaret Sullavan couldn’t be all that bad.
Three Comrades is a compromised film in many ways, but Borzage, Sullavan, and Fitzgerald form a powerfully poetic trio.
There’s nonetheless something mildly endearing about the film’s joyful celebration of loserdom.
How do films dealing with the relevant socio-political issues of their time withstand the test of time?
By digging under the surface, Peter Watkins sees the lies perpetuated in history, and how they reveal the lies we face right now.
It remains of interest because it sheds somewhat disturbing light on the longing for maternal comfort in all of Borzage’s famous love stories.
Lazybones is one of Frank Borzage’s most deeply felt films.
It’s difficult to evaluate The River, one of Borzage’s last silent films, because only a small portion of it survives.
The Ant Bully exhibits little of the humanity that characterized Pixar’s adventure A Bug’s Life.
Glowing with moody natural light, the western Until They Get Me is quite uninterested in action and horseplay.
Frank Borzage’s cinema is drawn to contrasts: of light and dark, of toughness and fragility.
It strikes a very distinct pose as a queer counterpoint to American Pie but doesn’t trust its gut, overextending itself by performing in Scary Movie drag.
Todd Verow’s passion and talent, unlike Gregg Araki’s, is not equal to his ambition.
The film’s sheer technical ineptitude seems almost intentional, bordering on avant-garde expressiveness.
The tequila runs through Maggie Gyllenhaal’s veins, but the film unfortunately needs a new tap.
No movie delivers baseball and beer better than The Bad News Bears.
Kevin Smith goes all out in justifying this sequel’s existence by turning it into a paean to the virtues of not growing up.
Turns out that not only was the film lost, but, likewise, Earth, Wind & Fire’s participation in the film itself is MIA.
Among its many identities, M. Night Shyamalan’s Lady in the Water is first and foremost a gaping psychic wound.
Shadowboxer is best aborted, and flushed away as one of 2006’s more unpleasant memories.