Coen’s film knows when to pay homage and when to move to its own rhythm.
This flashy legal melodrama is too flabby to deliver the walloping blow that it needs.
The film brushes up against a greater truth about how men and women move through the world.
Eugene O’Neill’s play isn’t about all of us, as much as this production might lean into the allure of universality.
A sickened rage and psychological nuance courses through every meticulously arranged frame of the film.
The film sanctimoniously suggests that ignorance or distrust of the news is nothing new, but rather the bedrock of America’s formation.
Dano’s contemplative period piece receives a wonderful Blu-ray transfer and handful of illuminating extras.
Haynes’s film intermittently hits upon a few original ways of representing its ripped-from-the-headlines mandate.
The film is one that might have been dreamed up by one of the cynical douche bros from the Hangover during a blacked-out stupor.
The film never meaningfully reckons with the complexity of the characters’ motivations and the consequences of their actions.
Once an accidental act of violence sends the main character’s life into a spiral, the film unfortunately spirals with him.
There’s a little Charlie Chaplin in the Joker’s steps early on, before madness grips him in ways that would probably make Pennywise shudder.
Vice is as noisy as the media landscape that writer-director Adam McKay holds in contempt.
It often suggests the film that American Beauty might have been if the latter had been pruned of its smug hysteria.
Wildlife, a film about the destruction and rebuilding of self-esteem and the self, is utterly devoid of ego.
Susanna White and screenwriter Steven Knight’s white patriarchal guilt is the film’s driving energy and motivation.
The series suggests the failure of U.S. intelligence in the years before 9/11 was one of imagination.
Scott Cooper’s film moves at a funereal pace, implicitly celebrating its sluggishness as a mark of integrity.
The characters’ emotional vacancy feels like another auteurist tic to which Lanthimos is dauntlessly committed.
Aaron Sorkin deep dives into self-parody from the opening moments of his directorial debut, Molly’s Game.