Tension becomes Caitlin Cronenberg’s film. The release of it, not so much.
Philip Kaufman’s stirring epic reminds us that an equally important motivation for greatness is the fear of being merely second best.
One would think it a curse to have to transform a theme park attraction into a summer cinematic spectacle.
Beneath the surface of Imitation of Life lies the reality of what Sirk rightfully believed was a seriously deranged American society.
A naked man. A naked woman. A slithering snake. A burning bush.
The film’s nihilist point is clear: It’s the world against Trelkovsky and not the other way around.
Once upon a time in the far off land of Syracuse, Jim Boeheim led the Orangemen to the NCAA basketball championship.
Girls Gone Wild meets The Real World in miniature, with Snoop Dogg’s seal of approval.
What is Legally Blonde 2 but a toothless, maudlin version of Mr. Lisa Goes to Washington?
Charlie’s Angels: Full Throttle is merely a preposterous, maximized manipulation of the original film’s winning formula.
Everyone gets screwed in the end, and hoping for anything better is the refuge of the foolish and naïve.
Virtually every one of Altman’s signature hallmarks are very much alive in his 1980 film.
There’s an assured poise to Hulk, a surprising trait to find in a film about an unwieldy green goliath with a penchant for decimating everything in sight.
Olivier Assayas’s obsession with the blurry line between fantasy and reality is lofty but unfocused.
The film suggests a grueling seminar for screenwriters with writer’s block.
The conflict between modern medicine and superstition lends the film a striking moral urgency.
The indie heavyweight suggests that he hasn’t stopped drifting himself and that he too continues to look for that elusive “thing.”
Fitzcarraldo is the preeminent testament of Herzog’s labor as a filmmaker.
Here, visual inventiveness and narrative incoherence combine to form a result that’s both entrancing and sleep-inducing.
Think of the film as Roman Polanski’s Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf.
Surely the obligatory sequel to what has to be a top contender for the “worst ’70s blockbuster” crown must carry some weight as a camp classic.