Whenever Ryan Gosling and Emily Blunt aren’t on screen together, the movie magic dissipates.
Despite a suspenseful jolt or two, this cornball Hitchcock riff is anything but subtle.
The Whip and the Body is at once frightening and hysterical, a gothic rendition of a D.H. Lawrence tale.
The overall effect is like opening a present on Christmas morning.
Its brilliance emanates equally from its structure, the acuteness of its gaze, and Edward Yang’s acknowledgement of life as a series of alternately humdrum and catastrophic occurrences.
This is Kenneth Lonergan’s trip down a familiar road where lives will forever be emotionally and inextricably bound.
In American Psycho, there is an exit—it’s just called the future.
Galoup is merely a rotten byproduct of a dehumanizing military apparatus, but by film’s end he finally learns to let out some steam.
Its secrets unravel via a series of carefully calibrated compositions that become not unlike virtual gateways into Freudian pasts.