Refn discusses his love of fairy tales, falling through the rabbit hole of streaming, and more.
Like Hitchcock, Lewis’s freewheeling, exquisitely diverting films were often undercut by sinister elements and personal neuroses.
Chazz Palminteri’s romantic dramedy Noel is predicated on all sorts of chance encounters.
Harvey Weinstein may suck, but according to Overnight, Troy Duffy sucks harder.
Jonathan Glazer’s fatal mistake as a storyteller is never owning up to all that is merely hinted at in Nicole Kidman’s face.
Taylor Hackford’s Ray follows cloying Oscar-season conventions to the note.
While the film’s obsession with race and representation may be intellectual, its justified anger and inquisitiveness is tempered with great sensitivity.
Kontroll is another “chill out” production at once lovely and sinister.
Like Luchino Visconti, Franco Zeffirelli identifies with women, but he doesn’t know how to tap into their souls, only their clothes.
The slithering camerawork and claustrophobic compositions help prevent narrative familiarity from breeding utter contempt.
Mike Mitchell’s grating comedy is a tribute to checkbook cheer.
This is the rote story of a sarcastic drunk who falls in love with a one-night stand and learns he has cirrhosis of the liver all in the same week.
With the film, Lewis seems more willing than ever to acknowledge his own hostility toward being dismissed as a kids’ entertainer.
With The Patsy, Jerry Lewis is generous enough to give the whole Dream Factory credit for the gags.
Brad Anderson’s atmospheric but shallow The Machinist comes with a powerful special effect: Christian Bale.
The appeal of Frank Darabont’s film isn’t exactly inexplicable.
I suppose girls could do worse than entertain the film’s feminist message for 90 minutes.
If the rumblings are true and Saraband is indeed Ingmar Bergman’s final work, then he has left on a summative high.
More than anything, Sideways furthers the impression that Alexander Payne is a great structuralist filmmaker.
In Gate of the Sun, Palestinians may not have the right to walk on their homeland, but they do have the right to speak and dream.
Throughout, the general absence of a score and the delicate, naturalistic cinematography create a mood of enveloping serenity.