Eli Roth’s Thanksgiving is a slasher for today, slickly made, coolly mean, and with a satiric bite.
The sense of concurrent being and non-being is key to the Michael Mann aesthetic and ethos.
Sharon Maguire’s Bridget Jones’s Baby is less a film than it is a series of needle-drops.
The filtering aspect of a filmmaker’s strong personality has the redeeming power that committee-obedient, impersonal filmmakers can never hope to acquire.
An eyesore on the big screen, Valentine’s Day is now close to one on your TV. Go read The Sound and the Fury instead.
The film is about as personal and memorable as a seasonal card your significant other snatches up from a Duane Reade at the last minute.
How do I loathe the soul-crushingly predictable Made of Honor? Let me count the ways.
As with so much of Disney’s female-centric fantasies, the energetic film eventually peddles the same old ass-backward messages.
Grey’s Anatomy and Entourage, two shows of the moment, would seem to have little in common.
Hilary Swank and Imelda Staunton butt heads outside the Oscar arena and she still kicks her ass.
This latest entry in the apparently inexhaustible Miracle Teacher genre reliably hits all the expected marks.
What isn’t predictably unpredictable here just ends up making you yearn for last year’s Serendipity.