Dean Parisot’s film is an awfully expensive and grossly extended Cialis commercial.
Steven Soderbergh’s self-professed final film, Side Effects, has reason to resemble a feature-length drug commercial.
The film is so enamored of its shimmery, background-effacing nighttime photography that it can’t be bothered with delivering a competent genre set piece.
Sometimes a film describes itself in miniature without realizing it.
Gabriele Muccino’s film is knee deep in “don’t hate the player, hate the game” territory.
Rock of Ages eventually ends, but that doesn’t change the fact that enduring it feels like eternal torture.
The primetime debut of one of Criterion’s indies-in-residence, Soderbergh’s Oscar-winning drug war epic gets a terrific HD upgrade.
Gillian Armstrong’s film trades suspense entirely for tawdry period swoonery.
Zellweger’s generic, front-page-ready, girl-next-door smile is outshone by the desperation in Minnelli’s eyes when Sally sings.
No Reservations is a cinematic culinary treat for those without a discerning palate.
Bring home the Legend.
Stitched together from a variety of disparate elements, The Legend of Zorro is a frustrating hodgepodge of a movie.
Steven Soderbergh’s Ocean’s Twelve is a starfucking circle-jerk orgy that doesn’t even have the common decency to get you off.
There’s a queasy uncertainty to The Terminal, a thematic discord apparent in the film’s consistently restless mise-en-scène.
Best Picture Oscar-winner Chicago gets a no-frills package on this DVD edition.
Once upon a time in the far off land of Syracuse, Jim Boeheim led the Orangemen to the NCAA basketball championship.
Because Rob Marshall takes little pain to create a life between musical numbers, Chicago plods along from one outburst to the next.
The only thing it gets right is that the P.R. flack will oftentimes forgo human decency while hawking and defending their shoddy products.