The series gives Natasha Lyonne room to rasp and shamble her way through murder mysteries populated by a murderers’ row of guest stars.
Straining to be a YA spin on Trouble Every Day, Bones and All barely eclipses Twilight.
In its second season, Russian Doll continues to ably straddle the line between realist tragicomedy and run-of-the-mill sci-fi.
The film navigates a tricky space between pathos and absurdity and often turns on a dime from one to the other.
The series concerns itself with boundaries between the different cultural standards of young adulthood.
For a spell, Melina Matsoukas’s film exudes the concision of an old B movie.
In the film, what starts as a subtle undercurrent of knowing humor curdles into overt self-referentiality.
It will be exciting to see how Jarmusch takes his transcendence of genre conventions to its breaking point.
The film is a rallying cry against a suffocating patriarchy that rapes its servants and disenfranchises its daughters.
Sevigny discusses her early work and navigating the male-dominated world of her profession.
Writer-director Andrew Haigh’s Lean on Pete exudes a quiet but self-evident sense of struggle.
Alex Ross Perry’s Golden Exits sustains a lingering aura of futility that’s counterweighted by the film’s beauty.
The Snowman is missing so much basic connective tissue as to be rendered almost completely inexplicable.
Despite its gestures toward nuance, the very broadness of the dichotomies in the film prove to be its undoing.
The Dinner is shrilly, luridly, dully, and unremittingly ugly, preaching to a choir that it also demonizes.
It’s unfortunate that the only part of the film that works does so by taking the wind out of the rest of it.
No Austen adaptation, even the most revisionist ones, has ever felt as vicious as Love & Friendship.
Language is a weapon in Stillman’s films, but so is the writer-director’s cunning use of framing and editing.
A blunt satire of the dehumanization inherent in social media that also gets off on said detachment.
Like the characters, the Tristan Patterson film’s exterior flash can’t conceal a glaring emptiness.