The film is held together by the intensity of its haunted-looking cast and the dour atmosphere.
It’s tough being a drama queen, but try telling that to the people responsible for this film.
Liquids become the motif d’abus of the film: water, blood, vomit, sweat, oil, urine, humidity, and paint.
Luchino Visconti’s overuse of superfluous zoom-lens trickery suggests that he was barely in control of his own worst impulses.
There’s a great Jonathan Demme movie waiting to bust out of Rain Man
Happily and ridiculously over the top, Secret Things is a war of anarchic, sexual primitivism.
Narratively, each short may be articulated differently, but alienation is the common thread.
The film teems with a palpable sense of terror and outrage.
The film’s charm and compassion is repeatedly drowned out by completely lowbrow distractions.
It’s rather like watching zee Frenchman kick zee puppy poodle for an hour and a half.
Consider Sitcom a work of corrective sexual politics.
Stone Reader is a humanitarian effort, but Mark Moskowitz’s preening and cloying voiceover can wear on the nerves.
Ella Enchanted is a ramshackle mess that is all the more frustrating for those brief times when it pulls itself together.
Spartan is a genre wank job every bit as cheesy and psychologically weightless as Heist.
One could say that the film is about nothing more than the clanging of armor or the movements of legs.
Jacques Nolot’s film is an almost nonchalant ethnography of the inner workings of a gay cruising haunt.
Director Manuel Boursinhac’s film at times suggests a Cliffs Notes knock-off of The Sopranos.
The film lasciviously devours all basic notions of intelligence and sophistication in its destructive, rampaging wake.
The filmmakers end up with one too many Superman fantasies piled up on top of one another.
Barbershop 2 has too many creaks in its gears to earn a wholehearted recommendation.
Kitchen Stories begins promisingly enough, but it turns into a male weepie with a serious case of the cutes.