Its simple but valuable moral lesson finds comfortable enough expression in an aesthetic that’s banal but consistent.
The primary model for Jared Moshe’s The Ballad of Lefty Brown is a particular strand of postwar western.
Jim Caviezel commits only to the level of God-like omniscience that Mel Gibson whipped into him a decade ago.
This almost weirdly resonant Stallone vehicle nets an attractive transfer that should please hardcore action fans and genre tourists alike.
It’s doubled down on its intrigue to hastily evolve from a bland procedural with a nifty visual aesthetic into a solid action-thriller.
A dim anti-privatization parable that preaches a familiar strain of cynical, unchallenged self-righteousness in the face of widespread abuse of civil liberties.
The film is impossible to take seriously as a commemoration of Moultrie’s life or Allen’s prolific status because of its plethora of contrivances.
One major reason that Terrence Malick’s films are so divisive is that they’re so nakedly emotional, that he’s so blatantly aiming for the sublime.