Mark Webber’s stripped-down approach renders the messy, unglamorous lives at the film’s center with dignity.
It’s unfortunate that the only part of the film that works does so by taking the wind out of the rest of it.
The film is an unambiguous endorsement of violent revolt as the only effective response to such inhuman savagery.
Florian Habicht unwisely shifts his focus from Sheffield and its unique denizens to the band’s personal history, effectively turning the film into an episode of Behind the Music.
Rather than commit to exploring Jessabelle’s existential crisis, the filmmakers opt to pile on the clichés straight until the rotten denouement.
To Keira Knightley’s credit, she’s all too willing to undercut her pretty-girl reputation by looking and acting a fool for Lynn Shelton’s camera.
Lynn Shelton’s film feels as rehashed as Dan Gilroy’s Nightcrawler, albeit to entirely pleasant results.
Swanberg’s films have grown into a reliable relief from the competitive, dehumanizing freneticism of much of American culture, marked by an affirming sense of decency.
Daniel Stamm’s film is solidly helmed, if expectedly over-reliant on unnecessarily grisly comeuppances that leave nothing to the imagination.
The tetchy band of thirtysomethings’ interpersonal problems are infinitely less compelling than the mysterious and original global disaster the filmmakers have devised.
Just about everyone in Save the Date makes for lousy company.
The film is Jamie Travis’s female-centric take on friendship, business, and, to a lesser degree, romance.
The Lie is a film about accountability that repeatedly absolves its lead character of the need to have any.
Edgar Wright is cinema’s most inspired mash-up artist, and Scott Pilgrim vs. the World may be his finest hybridization to date.
Shrink is ultimately an ain’t-Hollywood-grand film masquerading as a boy-L.A.-sucks film.
Explicit Ills has a tenderness that belies its fiery left-leaning political views about urban poverty and social injustice.
This is a dull psychological thriller every bit as dispensable as any of the lurid offerings of Gil Kofman’s fictional counterpart.
Memory Thief chews more than it can swallow.
The Hottest State is thoroughly infused with its creator’s pretentious indie-bohemian persona.
The presentation is too fake to be real and not nearly fake enough to be called avant-garde.