This is one of the rare American films to give dramatic heft to the strategic challenges and mortal stakes of labor organizing.
The film is frustrating in the end for reaffirming the traditional blockbuster’s allegiance to human perseverance.
The film advances that old Hollywood trope: Blacks can’t get justice unless whites are willing to get it for them.
This is a cerebral, 25-year-old film that follows the blueprint for today’s endless glut of superhero movies.
Ewan McGregor’s inert adaption smooths out the Philip Roth novel’s eruptions of self-loathing and doubt.
Director Ewan McGregor smooths out American Pastoral’s eruptions of self-loathing and doubt.
It still strides like a behemoth, but the extras are sadly as inconsequential as the crowds rushing around our unlikely hero’s massive feet.
It's magnificently sustained equivalent of Ravel’s "Bolero," with nuclear warheads in place of timpani rolls.
It borders on parody as it tries to portray its hero as martyrdom-bound genius, which makes the film feel as if it was made by Franco’s vain, art-fetishizing character from This Is the End.
The poster for Call Me is full of sexy promises.
The lame extras are disappointing, but Spielberg’s quietly subversive political comedy receives an otherwise superlative transfer.
The film comes to Blu-ray armed with a superb A/V transfer and a solid packing of extras from Universal.
Will the Academy really go for a star-free, Sendak-esque allegory, whose rugged charms are tied to its loose lack of answers?
Even as tropes arrive in full force, exceptions to boilerplate good-versus-evil scenarios make occasional appearances.
It’s hard to pinpoint exactly why Days of Being Wild doesn’t quite move me like Wong’s other films.