Not surprisingly, the film’s most effective scene is also its least pretentious.
The film is a ravishing evocation of a unconsummated romantic relationship put through an emotional and cultural ringer.
Its brilliance emanates equally from its structure, the acuteness of its gaze, and Edward Yang’s acknowledgement of life as a series of alternately humdrum and catastrophic occurrences.
The Shooting pays obvious homage to the classic westerns of John Ford and Howard Hawks.
This is Kenneth Lonergan’s trip down a familiar road where lives will forever be emotionally and inextricably bound.
Woody Allen has grown up a lot since Take the Money and Run and it shows.
The film’s simple truths about the nature of family and friendship will give young children something to chew on.
Its secrets unravel via a series of carefully calibrated compositions that become not unlike virtual gateways into Freudian pasts.
The film is as much a relevant view of adolescence and male/female relations as it is an act of remembrance.
Despite a suspenseful jolt or two, this cornball Hitchcock riff is anything but subtle.
Released at the pinnacle of his prolific Mexican period, Él remains one of Luis Buñuel’s crowning achievements.
The whole of the film is less than the sum of its parts, but the parts are often breathtakingly shot.
Galoup is merely a rotten byproduct of a dehumanizing military apparatus, but by film’s end he finally learns to let out some steam.
In American Psycho, there is an exit—it’s just called the future.