Self-absorption is director Bravo’s focus, though it’s a topic that’s less examined than indulged.
In keeping his actors on his sober-yet-buoyant plane, Kenneth Branagh presents a convincing romance that doesn’t stall the film’s brisk clip.
Nicholas Stoller’s film is a romantic comedy that gets it.
My ’80s adolescence was filled with movies about zombies, aliens, exploding heads, and axe murderers.
The film is a giddy procession of intermittently successful jump scares and make-you-vomit sight gags.
Redbelt may or may not be Mamet’s best feature, but it is most definitely his least sycophantically written.
Nixon is a staggering work of empathy for Stone.
An epic film deserves an epic DVD treatment, and Nixon gets one.
What ultimately makes it more than a dude-ranch version of the first hour of Deliverance is its ability to make fun of itself.
A different way of tackling the sons-and-fathers story, but right up there with the best of them.
Redbelt is faithfully cast in the tradition of Jean-Pierre Melville’s Le Samouraï.
To call the Ocean’s films frivolous would be kind, implying that these arduous concoctions are somehow light on their proverbial feet.
Writer-director Paul Weitz warms over the cold truth of corporate globalization by giving it a puppy-cute face,
Director Rob Reiner describes the film’s past as a “rich kind of Gatsby world.” Yeah, riiiiiiiiight.
The film suggests a grueling seminar for screenwriters with writer’s block.
The film’s quirky, surreal mise-en-scène meshes poorly with the curiously unfunny yet not necessarily terrible deadpan humor.
Focus is a specious study of mistaken identity set in New York during the height of WWII.