The film’s cramped compositions hauntingly underline the claustrophobic nature of its protagonist’s life.
Rectify’s portrait of men and women stuck between their tumultuous inner lives and the public personas is impossible to shake.
It’s the tender, realistic moments where Rectify thrives, distinguishing itself from the bulk of other series with similar subject matter.
Writer-director Barry Battles’s film revels in hicks-ploitation sleaze.
There’s something incredibly strange, frantic, and amazing about Dewey stumbling his way through Lexington trying to raise the money to buy back his own kidneys.
Although it fancies itself as rigidly complex as a well-played chess match, The Perfect Host is really a game without any rules.
What should have been a jumping-off point for a lively discussion about the meaning of life is really just a philosophically shallow wasteland.
The film exhibits enough unfussy familiarity with its tattered blue-collar locale to overcome its more well-worn components.
A point emerges, this notion that we’re all born good, but it’s not one that gets a concerned workout.
For that special Christian in your life who’s still trapped in the 1950s.
Teenagers are disgusting, or so director Adam Shankman would have us believe.