Now it’s easier than ever to appreciate both the sunny pleasures of Cameron Crowe’s ode to his youth and its self-doubting underbelly.
The entire world of Ray Donovan feels typified by nothing more than pent-up machismo.
From the schoolyard to the psych ward, the bully was a cinematic staple well before becoming a hot-button news topic.
Nicolas Cage’s performance is some kind of tour de force.
It shares with the Abel Ferrara film a bottomless compassion for its crazies.
Far more than Peter, it’s his paterfamilias who deserved the brunt of Grodsy and Jacobs’s character-study concentration.
Totally twee, but Archer seems to understand his talent as he does his main character: a work-in-progress.
The underrated Don’t Come Knocking is possibly Wenders’s best film since Paris, Texas.
Wild Tigers I Have Known self-consciously attempts to stake its claim to a tract of the queer cinema landscape.
The film only longs for hard, distant men and comforting, unreflective women.
What a curious thing it is to listen to a man read from the pages of Rebecca Miller’s female-empowering Personal Velocity.
More nostalgic than realistic, Deuces Wild paints an unimaginative portrait of macho bullshit.