Refn discusses his love of fairy tales, falling through the rabbit hole of streaming, and more.
The films were only two of three noirs that Losey made in the year that Julius and Ethel Rosenberg were sentenced to death.
Rather than embedding herself in Iraq, documentarian Deborah Scranton supplied three National Guard members with DV cameras.
What follows is a numbered, point-by-point subjective breakdown of The New World’s two versions.
My Mom is a larger than life character crafted with one part June Cleaver, two parts Mahalia Jackson, three parts Oprah, and four parts Dorothy Parker.
Mat Whitecross and Michael Winterbottom’s film encourages action.
To make a case against psychoanalytic self-help, one need look no further than RevoLOUtion.
Look to He Ran All the Way and Tension as examples of how John Berry was trying to push a melo-noir style.
Dominik Moll’s latest gives lemmings and women a bad name.
Throughout, the graceful camera, the movement of characters, and the overlapping voices collectively convey a genial sense of place.
One of Stryker’s quirky charms is how Noam Gonick places his icy gang machinations against a paradoxical landscape.
Goal! The Dream Begins runs through sports movie clichés with all the subtlety, style, and originality of a kick to the shins.
It’s best to begin a discussion of Mikio Naruse’s Yearning by focusing on its concluding image.
Producer Irwin Allen’s first of a neverending cycle of disaster epics is a guilty pleasure to end all guilty pleasures.
The film’s glass-spangled erection burns with an uncontrollable lust for spectacle.
Poseidon recognizes and encourages belief in the popular popcorn-movie theory of The Survival of the Whitest.
There’s no nice way to say this: Refuge is a dull document of a fascinating matter.
Everywhere you went at the 49th San Francisco Film Festival you could feel a song coming on.
Public Domain is ostensibly a critique of reality-based programming, but its intent and presentation is so muddled that it gets at nothing.
Cédric Klapisch’s shallow stylistic ticks preclude identifiable emotional or behavioral reality.
Andrucha Waddington is attuned to both the flowing passage of time and the charged silence between people.