It reveals itself as vacuous and cold, a bizarrely seductive pseudo-thriller lacking a thoroughly worked-out payoff.
The difference between the film and its equally expensive contemporaries is Luc Besson’s playful, childlike naïveté.
Kassovitz’s iconic film about race, violence, and class struggle is both rousing entertainment and brilliant filmmaking.
The festival is a place for encountering first-time visions as well as catching up with established artists.
This deceptively modest bundle of butt-kicking and betrayal gets a top-notch transfer from Lionsgate.
Soderbergh’s latest is all aloof propulsion, and like Contagion, it’s ultimately inconsequential.
Babylon A.D. seems like the aftermath of an artistic apocalypse.
The experience afforded by a collection of this sort demands something of a reexamination of one’s relationship to the medium.
The film might be the year’s most levelheaded cinematic dissertation on our ongoing war on terror.
Mathieu Kassovitz and Matthew Libatique talk very generally about the film on the limp commentary track included here.
Penélope Cruz not only chews the scenery, she pisses on it and begins chewing on it again.
A few elements chip away somewhat at Amen’s seriousness of intent, but they do add fire to the stimulating drama.
Costa-Gavras walks a fine line between portraying the soulless social allowances and ignorance that allowed the Holocaust to happen, and exploiting them for dramatic punch.
On the small screen, Amélie is somehow easier to swallow, but her whimsy is no less poisonous.
Smug and self-infatuated, it’s definitely something to chew on…just bring a barf bag.