Guillermo del Toro’s horror anthology exudes an alluring air of mystery, rough around the edges but coursing with energy.
In its second season, the show’s leisurely road trip downshifts into a total lethargy.
Shout! Factory outfits David Lynch’s worst film with a competent yet weirdly retro Blu-ray that squanders the possibilities of the medium.
One of Jarmusch’s best and most divisive films has been outfitted with a beautiful and imaginative Criterion package.
It’s time for the series to push beyond thematic foreplay and embrace the flawed and terrifying present tense.
The episode satirically equates exposition to sales as necessary binding agents of contemporary life.
The premise might make sense, if only hypocritically, but the film abandons this already flimsy parody of macho pride disastrously at the last minute.
Entertainers focused on their own sense of self, such as performance artist Brother Theodore and filmmaker/actor Crispin Glover, are wonderfully loopy stunt interviews.
The box set of this undeniably disreputable horror franchise is 100 percent for the fans, and they should be pretty happy with this extras-laden smorgasbord.
An intensely intelligent look at American history and a blueprint for how to (un)make it, from one of our country’s finest directors.
Mr. Nice has a number of lively moments that suggest a comedy of the inevitablity of radicals selling out.
Though the extras lack in the “muchness” department, this DVD boasts a phenomenal audio/video presentation.
A film with the title Hot Tub Time Machine has no right to be as dull as the one that just came out.
The rule of Lewis Carroll’s Wonderland, like that of dreams, is that there are no rules.
A nagging sense of incompletion haunts 9, Shane Acker’s feature-length expansion of his Oscar-nominated 2004 short.
Jason gets the proper sendoff.
The film seemed like the ideal ending point for the lowbrow slasher series.
For anyone who ever wanted to see Michael J. Fox playing Tracey Ullman, there’s Back to the Future Part II.
The film stands up on its own as a well-oiled, brilliantly-edited example of new-school, Spielberg-cultivated thrill-craft.
Back to the Future Part II is the vulgarity of postmodern pop culture in microcosmic form.