Despair is the dominant mood of Mike Leigh’s Another Year.
Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps plays a bit like a knowing self-parody of Olive Stone’s typical bombast.
Chongqing Blues is an unwieldy barge of clichés, heavy-handed symbols, and clumsy, inconsistent formal choices.
Robin Hood seems to have been designed with the express purpose of removing from the myth everything that makes it enjoyable.
This isn’t what I expected. A seven-hour layover?
The Cannes Film Festival runs from May 11 to 23.
This was the last podcast we did before engaging in a bit of a recording hiatus before our upcoming Oscar Pre-Podcast.
If a Wookie can fondle a princess, can an Academy Award winner feed a 13-year old a Quaalude?
Preserving a judicious silence interrupted by occasional ill-timed bleating on my behalf, part two is super-delicious and crunchy.
Hello and welcome to one of our more epic episodes, which just happens to be lucky number 13.
Nothing could possibly prepare you for the overwhelming mindfuckery that is Synecdoche, New York.
Even romantic Woody Allen comes with a heaping side-order of questions and doubt.
Clint Eastwood is a masterful director, but he loses control of Changeling’s tone.
What a long, strange week it’s been.
Jean-Pierre and Luc Dardenne continue their remarkable streak of films with Lorna’s Silence.
After the disappointment of Blindness on day one, I enter day two ready to make the most of my time here in Cannes.
Blindness would be a tough assignment even for a really smart director, and Meirelles has always been a fundamentally shallow one.
Let’s make it count
The 60th edition of the Cannes Film Festival has come to a close.