This re-edit clarifies The Godfather Part III as a bombastic yet ultimately insular morality play.
These films are as elegant as they are expansive, acutely perceptive and operatic in their high emotions.
It’s said that casting is 90% of directing, and it seems to be 90% of the writing in Bill Holderman’s Book Club.
The too-dark lensing is an ideal match for Allen’s sequences of marital and amorous discord.
The film follows its predecessor in being broadly concerned with comforting notions of home and family.
Sloppy and haphazard where it should be calculatedly chaotic, it can’t ever seem to settle on an appropriate tone.
Ira Sachs wouldn’t have countenanced the stacked-deck sentimentality that lies at this film’s heart.
The canon cries out for rejuvenation, and so we size up another annual Allen tradition: the commemoration of his greatest hits.
Diane Keaton’s jangled neurotic tics are simply sprinkled atop her on-screen persona like jimmies on a bowl of ice cream.
The Big Wedding couldn’t possibly be more square.
It would appear that one of the biggest challenges facing movies with huge, starry casts is getting all the actors together to shoot the poster image.
It’s a film that has one opening scene after another, never seeming to run short of prologues and prefaces.
The film is a lost-dog drama so insufferable it makes one wish its human characters would also run off and never return.
It’s a good thing the intern remembered to include the collie.
Fox does right by Allen's best-loved neurotic romantic comedy.
Fox’s Blu-ray of Allen’s swooniest neurotic romance has plenty of slate-gray panache for the film’s legions of ardent devotees.
It’s hard to look at Tuesday Weld’s career without feeling a tiny pang of regret for what could have been.
At least Diane Keaton, fleetingly vamping with 50 Cent or kissing a frog, seems like a plausibly fun breakfast anchor.
Essential in the truest sense of the word.
Callie Khouri’s film is unbelievable, slapdash, and idiotic in virtually every respect.