The film is held together by the intensity of its haunted-looking cast and the dour atmosphere.
Confessions of an Opium Eater is mainly about our intrinsic need to make human connections.
It would be a lot easier to dismiss The Hanging Garden if its fetishized details weren’t so naked and boldly autobiographical.
My Beautiful Laundrette is every bit the landmark gay film it deserves to be.
The film confronts a litany of moral conundrums regarding guilt, revenge, punishment, justice, and man’s responsibility to himself and society.
The Hunt for Red October is a thrilling edge-of-your-seat trifle that has admirably withstood the test of time.
What distinguishes Killer of Sheep from films like Clockers is its absence of malice.
The lifeless finale has about as much imagination as a Mini has trunk space.
What could have been a simple five-minute segment on the crisis has become a two-hour celebration of Cuban perseverance.
Its drunk on irony and Jewish folklore, but lacks the existential wallop of the director’s masterful man-versus-earth collisions.
What separates the film from its predecessors is its anarchic, cynical hysteria—its bizarre and dark-as-hell gallows humor.
How much do we need to know about the lives and struggles of our pop-culture heroes in order to appreciate them?
Few will believe that Jim Carrey himself favors this warmed-over pap over a more challenging project.
For any overprotective parent whose ever had issues with their kids taking the car out at night, the film should hit closer to home.
Peyton Reed successfully recreates the pathology of a time period without ever really addressing it.
Though the film is, by the writers’ admission, “a love letter to the ACLU,” it is also an absolute reading of the Bill of Rights.
Andrew Jarecki boldly addresses the notion that some victims of child abuse are really just victims of a mass conspiracy.
The film is a ludicrous, insecure psychological thriller that purports to give a human face to Britain’s invisible underclass.
Cuban filmmaker Tomás Gutiérrez Alea’s gutsy Memories of Underdevelopment is a difficult work of political activism.
This shrill fashion industry satire by first-time director Michele Maher is as toothless as they come.
An apologia for all future Susan Smiths, Euripides’s filicidal classic Medea is a simple story.