Motor City channels the spirit of the vigilante films and other exploitation genres of the 1970s.
Metal Lords betrays rather than upholds the values of the very kids it wants to revere.
Valérie Lemercier’s film feels at once like a vanity project for its maker and a glorified fan tribute.
In this film, nuance seems to have disapparated from the wizarding world altogether.
The shell that shook the world returns to an even bigger screen.
The collisions between the grave and the comic are crucial to the film’s vision of a society cracking under the weight of its inconsistencies.
Throughout Cow, a kind of affective connection is formed between animal and the cinematic apparatus.
The Bubble’s toothless showbiz satire mostly comes down to teasing its characters for their entitlement and self-importance.
Jones and Kurzel discuss Nitram’s cultural and emotional specificity, and why some Australians wish that it had never been made.
Throughout, Barbarians oscillates between smugness and apprehensiveness about the film that it’s trying to be.
Apollo 10½ ultimately suggests that memory distorts and amplifies just as much as it preserves.
The film’s rote action-movie plotting is calibrated in a ponderously straight-faced way so as to give it some semblance of gravity.
Sergei Loznitsa mines the archives for what amount to living documents of a past that reverberates into the present with devastating force.
Implicit in its bleak but sympathetic portrait of a disturbed, shunned young man is that sometimes it takes a village to make a monster.
The film is at its most effective and engaging when simply capturing the vibrancy of a world onto its own.
The film’s depiction of an era of rigid class divisions and incalculable loss comes through the hazy, soft-focus goggles of nostalgia.
The film works magic by embracing excess, finding a kind of harmony and possibility within it.
Even if this isn’t actually The End of Movies As We Know It, it’s unmistakably The End of Peak Oscar.
Not only does Infinite Storm lack for a complete vision, it’s all too comfortable in settling for mawkishness.
The primacy that it places on its dopamine drip of dread undercuts whatever commitment it might have toward mental illness and trauma.
This is proof that star power and chemistry can only take a film with a mediocre script so far.