Jean-Stéphane Sauvaire’s Asphalt City is less a film than a guttersnipe’s wallow.
The scenario makes the torment that only child Jaime goes through a much more universal and generic toil.
This is a culture-shock sitcom tailor-made for the teeny-bopper sect.
Someone telephone B. Ruby Rich, because X2: X-Men United can be lumped in as the latest evolution of the New Queer Cinema.
It’s movies like Sweet Sixteen that keep us honest.
While films like Chasing Papi claim to represent the Hispanic cultural experience in America, Washington Heights actually delivers on its own promise.
Identity is very pleased with its supposedly clever but completely nonsensical ending.
Takashi Miike’s film is as morose and disturbing as it is infused with a sense of the madcap.
L’Atalante stands as one of the most beautiful and rich celebrations of human connection in the history of cinema.
For all its facades, nothing in the film reads quite as false as the final scene.
Do we really need to see Cameron and his team of scientists blown up to such nauseating proportions?
Joke-for-joke, it’s not that funny—but it’s almost poignant.
Malibu’s Most Wanted is not, I repeat NOT, the single worst film ever committed to celluloid.
The film preemptively negates any challenges to its pessimistic worldview as fundamentally unimportant.
Natali’s cult favorite is boxed in by its own intriguing central premise.
Its rage is problematic but the film itself is a breath of fresh of air.
Another week, another ethnic buddy yarn.
If not consistently funny, Anger Management is still unusually mindful of human behavior for an Adam Sandler vehicle.
Less shrill than Samira Makhmalbaf’s Blackboards, Bahman Ghobadi’s latest is also less didactic.
Hero is elliptical, primal, radically disjointed, and female-empowering.
There’s only one word it can spell without any trouble whatsoever: B-U-L-L-S-H-I-T.