One of Soderbergh’s best films, a classic of the American crime film genre, is afforded a beautifully visceral transfer.
Shawn Levy’s sci-fi flick is as crowded with incident as it is with saccharine family drama.
Netflix’s Brand New Cherry Flavor suggests that ambition makes monsters.
The film is brightly colored, inventively designed, and constantly flirting with the outright psychedelic.
The show’s fundamental goal isn’t to present love that’s unique to the current moment, but to expose the universality of its stories.
The plot takes leaps that feel as reckless as they are refreshing in such a doleful film of terminal prognoses.
Incredibles 2 primarily concerns male anxiety about women taking over traditionally masculine roles.
The film is mostly a sobering dramatization of a true and controversial story in recent Connecticut history.
The sledgehammer preachiness of Mark Pellington’s Nostalgia almost scans as a failed hipster joke.
The film advances that old Hollywood trope: Blacks can’t get justice unless whites are willing to get it for them.
It incisively probes the connection between the racism of the “liberal elite” and good old-fashioned white supremacy.
The presentation is attractive and the supplements diverting, but the real draw is the film itself.
So flimsily constructed that it resembles a middle-school play that’s been hastily filmed on an antique camcorder.
Mark Jackson’s direction strips much of the agency from any character’s grasp by insisting that their dilemmas can only be revealed with stone-faced austerity.
This is a film that lives in the high and not in the comedown, even though its characters are often stalled and wallowing.
It borders on parody as it tries to portray its hero as martyrdom-bound genius, which makes the film feel as if it was made by Franco’s vain, art-fetishizing character from This Is the End.
It works too hard to keep matters on an even, we’re-all-more-alike-than-different keel, which is just one part of its chief problem of forcefully conveying information and intent.
Enough can’t be said about how James Gandolfini comes so close to saving Nicole Holofcener’s latest articulation of white suburban anxieties.
You can’t help but feel pangs of heartache watching the trailer for Enough Said.
Kirk DeMicco and Chris Sanders’s film takes more than a few pages from the James Cameron playbook.