Refn discusses his love of fairy tales, falling through the rabbit hole of streaming, and more.
Working with Atom Egoyan has not done Kevin Bacon any favors.
Lonesome Jim feels as if it’s from an earlier time and not in a good way.
American Gun is a wall-to-wall spectacle of grating hysterics and solemn symbolism.
Late Chrysanthemums is a film of unbridled riches, so it’s only appropriate that it contains two of Mikio Naruse’s typically superb climaxes.
Home was shot in 2002 and 2003, edited and sound-mixed in 2004, and made its theatrical debut last year.
Amazingly, this movie has been embraced by some of the country’s most prominent critics.
The color bland will never be the new black.
These are the sorts of films New York Times critic A.O. Scott recently complained weren’t being made anymore.
Mark Twain once said, “I didn’t have time to write you a short letter, so I wrote you a long one instead.”
Tyler Perry works his Christian ideals into a black pop-culture vernacular, encoding faith in Brian McKnight songs and shots of soul food.
You may ask, what lies beneath? The answer: zilch.
The film only longs for hard, distant men and comforting, unreflective women.
Edvard Munch, in Peter Watkin’s subjective documentary setting, is one of the penultimate cultural crusaders.
A time to taste small, savory dishes from all over the world before the bigger feast of the upcoming New Directors/New Films series.
If I can’t have real bodies and artful photography, I’d rather watch The Cartoon Network.
Lost Cityhas the gloss of a non-inclusive commemorative stamp.
Ever wonder how a radio station or network affiliate gets a celebrity to record a promotional tag?
All that Thank You for Smoking really peddles is a smoggy cloud of “moral flexibility.”
There’s a leering quality to the film that brings to mind those insidious Mondo Cane documentaries of the ’60s.
Can you imagine a less useful treatise in the mist of our current War on Terror?