The episode divides its time between domestic drama, overarching mythology, and seriocomic pop surrealism.
The episode’s frequent matched pairs and expository repetitions seem to draw attention to themselves.
The first two episodes of the new season are largely preoccupied with sowing the seeds for later developments.
Serial Mom looks about as pristine as the image Beverly Sutphin projects onto her little slice of suburbia.
Patrick Stewart’s performance is practically an argument for Stephen Belber to take the actor on the road as a one-man spoken-word act.
See which cake-loving whippersnappers we corralled for this list, a celebration of the filmic fat kid
People matter in Fat Kid Rules the World, but genre not so much.
The film is a precious banality best suited for 1950s television.
Payne’s lovely, resonant fifth film does the hula on a lonely island of imminent death and wasted life.
The film is a TV movie-grade romantic farce that’s practically medieval in its cornball conventionality.
On the basis of About Schmidt, you’d think Alexander Payne had a problem dealing with grief.
Serial Mom is the strongest film of the post-midnight-movie chapter of John Waters’s career.
Annie’s “Tomorrow” never sounded so optimistic.
Only Uwe Boll would assume that the moviegoing public craved a trashy Lord of the Rings rip-off starring Burt Reynolds and Matthew Lillard.
There’s little respite from the bargain-bin cheesiness of The Groomsmen.
“Outrageous and zany,” says Jeffrey Lyons. Words to die by.
Joy to the world: Wicker Park imagines what life must be like inside a music video.
Josh Hartnett is far too stolid to convey the frazzled, fanatical desperation required by Paul McGuigan’s soporific romantic mystery.
Those who got a kick out of seeing Shaggy with big breasts may want to head straight to the “Dancing Dog” feature.
John Boorman may be the worst thing to happen to hillbillies and banjo music.