Refn discusses his love of fairy tales, falling through the rabbit hole of streaming, and more.
In honor of what would have been Billy Wilder’s 100th birthday, NYC’s Film Forum is currently hosting a retrospective titled “Essential Wilder.”
To swipe a lame pun from a Tales from the Crypt comic, Koko is sure the gorilla of my dreams.
The film is horrifyingly relentless and beatific in its artistry.
Suffice to say that Elem Klimov’s biopic of the mad monk Grigori Rasputin more than lives up to its title.
Mel Blanc gets lots of credit for his work with Looney Tunes, all of it deserved.
One of the benefits of owning a toddler is their usefulness as guinea pigs in experiments.
The movie is visionary bubblegum, unabashedly in love with its source material.
The film is made profound by Béla Tarr’s startling visual approach.
Even for a sequel, Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest takes the practice of double-dipping to extreme depths.
Richard Linklaer is good at capturing the failed intimacy of Generation X.
Despite its classification as a rock ‘n’ roll mockumentary, Keith Fulton and Louis Pepe’s Brothers of the Head is of a markedly different stripe than Spinal Tap.
Christian Volckman’s Franco-noir Renaissance is, in purely technical terms, something of an evolutionary step up from Sin City.
Frank Borzage’s Moonrise is a sensual scrutiny of a man’s free will.
The subject here is very much the incomprehension of watching bustling cities wither and die.
Aurora Borealis bites Good Will Hunting and Donald Sutherland feels most of the sting.
Maybe in this case, the emperor really has no clothes.
Mini’s First Time trades in black humor so dim you’d need a flashlight to find it.
The film’s construction isn’t groundbreaking but the shrill freakshow of talking heads is revealing.
It’s a pleasant enough piece of hackwork, anonymous in all the right ways so that it neither offends nor thrills.
Summer’s here, and the time is right for a summary of all things cinematically summery.