In the end, the film reduces Winehouse’s life to little more than a sexist trope.
The sense of concurrent being and non-being is key to the Michael Mann aesthetic and ethos.
The film proves, if nothing else, how resistant D.H. Lawrence’s fiction remains to adaptation.
The film gets at the profound truth that our relationship with another person is, at its core, a collection of shared memories.
Director Max Winkler truly seems to believe that he’s cutting to the heart of the boulevard of broken dreams.
Throughout, the filmmakers occlude the most fascinating and potentially powerful elements of Jean Seberg’s history.
Zwick uses a popular artistic mode to stake out a moral and political stance that, if not radical, is at least forceful.
In Godless, female empowerment resembles the adoption of a rigid construction of masculinity.
Jodie Foster manages the interlocking tones of outrage with an unfailing rhythm and an engagingly casual cynicism.
The film’s chief misstep is taking its title too literally, and ultimately depicting Louie as an indestructible, and thus largely inhuman, superhero.
We hope to shine a little light on brilliant, touching, often funny performances which enrich our understanding of what it means to be human.
The film modestly embraces its inherent minimalism and finds the emotions underlying even the most schematic of scenarios.
‘71 distinguishes itself from Pual Greengrass’s films by virtue of its close attention to political and moral ambiguities.
Yann Demange’s ‘71 isn’t meant to look like one continuous shot, as Birdman is, but it often feels that way anyway.
The way in which it answers questions about rehabilitation and forgiveness is credible because the characters and setting feel so authentic.
This time, as opposed to all the other times, it’s personal.