The film examines the divide between ethical uprightness and moral bankruptcy with dreary ponderousness.
Messy genre jumbling has rhyme and reason in Leaves of Grass, as it speaks directly to the film’s portrait of life’s unpredictability and uncontrollability.
This release will keep Fight Club misread as a nihilistic paean to violence—or as a celebration of hyper-masculinity-for years to come.
David Fincher’s blood-black comedy remains one of the most divisive pictures of the past 20 years.
The film’s commentary on vice and decency is far less immediate and realistic than its gritty aesthetic would have one believe.
Bustin’ Down the Door begins on a note of such rote summary that it effectively neuters all that follows.
The aesthetic dexterity and psychological depth of Ang Lee’s Hulk is corrupted by Marvel’s reboot of the superhero franchise.
The Painted Veil is more or less from the school of motion picture that Pauline Kael used to say “reeks of quality.”
If only it was rewritten in a manner different than the Bryan Singer film, well that would have been magic, wouldn’t it?
The finale reveals the detrimentally hamfisted influence of the Sundance Institute on an otherwise entrancingly mournful film.
Orlando Bloom and the Brothers Scott have this week’s film and DVD market cornered.
Kingdom of Heaven ultimately turns out to be a film about holiness beset by a pedestrian spirit.
While there’s no commentary track to sell some prospective buyers, I’d keep this DVD edition solely for the awesome interactive menus.
The lifeless finale has about as much imagination as a Mini has trunk space.
Surprisingly mundane, given the central figure, the film puts the "lesson" in "civics lesson."
Though the film is, by the writers’ admission, “a love letter to the ACLU,” it is also an absolute reading of the Bill of Rights.
Not your average Spike Lee joint, but still a sensitive evocation of one man’s moral crisis set amid a city’s even bigger one.
With all of its oversights and indulgences, 25th Hour is still a persuasive, undeniably fascinating film.
Though Frida is easier to swallow than Julie Taymor’s preposterous Titus, the eye candy here lacks considerable brio.
The pitch meeting must have gone something like this.