Chandor turns an intensely physical narrative into another of his inadvertently generic studies of procedure.
When its tone slides firmly back into the murk, it’s hard not to see DC’s notion of heroism as borderline nihilistic.
Live by Night adds a new wrinkle to the well-traveled terrain of the mafia film: the woke gangster.
The Accountant unevenly juggles a “follow the money” procedural with a corporate espionage thriller.
The film is simultaneously exhilarating, gorgeous, and tedious, operating as a weird fusion of auteur project and craven franchise start-up.
An origin story, apologia, and harbinger of a second expanded universe of overpopulated action bonanzas.
It typifies Fincher’s style while pushing him in new creative directions, and the minimally loaded BD wisely leaves the film open for spirited debate.
There’s a comic streak to the film that suggests David Fincher may understand the material as trash, but it’s the kind of affectation that only reinforces, rather than dulls, its insults.
The ultimately forgettable Runner Runner is, for a gambling film, markedly risk-averse.
Terrence Malick gets swept up in a bad love affair in picturesque Oklahoma and Magnolia does more than well by the visual and auditory splendor of the director’s strangely ferocious sixth feature.
San Filippo’s book is rigorously theoretical and intellectual, though the work must be partially faulted for being almost completely irrespective of cinema as a medium-specific mode of expression.
Throughout Malick’s film, the new and old are incessantly twinned, blurred into a package that suggests an experimental dance piece.